


Overlay

by SapphyreLily



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Hallucinations, M/M, Slow Burn, Tags to be updated as I update, medicine abuse, two minds sharing one body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-02-13 00:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphyreLily/pseuds/SapphyreLily
Summary: The world population is still increasing, with nowhere for the people to go. Then comes a new technology, a new discovery. A chance, of saving the sick, by transplanting their minds into the body of another, a healthy individual. A chance, of decreasing the world's population at the same time.Shirabu knows he's dying. He's willing to take that risk.





	1. Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> This is for HQBB2017 (and here's the first ~10k)
> 
> I'm so excited for this series?! And I'm not even done writing aaaaa  
> The concept for this is loosely based on [Kat Zhang's The Hybrid Chronicles](https://www.goodreads.com/series/59242-the-hybrid-chronicles) (which I recommend reading, because it's really good)
> 
> A HUGE thank you to my lovely beta [Alti](https://altimys.tumblr.com/) for all the help!!! And special thanks to [Bia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticalcreation) for brainstorming with me <3 This fic wouldn't be the same without all the hours of us yelling and crying over it.
> 
> EDIT: [Binu](https://binuboi.tumblr.com) drew some amazing [art](https://binuboi.tumblr.com/post/168451113849/umm-if-anyone-can-tell-me-how-to-change-the-shitty) for this!!!

He hugs his parents tightly, then steps back and bows deeply. He thanks them for the meal, for the lifetime that he spent with them, for their efforts in bringing him up. He apologises for his transgressions, for the times he’s fallen short, but most of all, he apologises for what he’s about to do.

His mother is tearful, but her voice remains steady.

_ As always, as always. Okaa-san never wavers. _

“Kenjirou, you don’t have to do this.”

“But I must,” he mutters to the ground. “I cannot be a burden onto you or Otou-san, and I cannot bring down this family. You still have Nii-san and Mika-chan, you don’t need me.”

He hears his mother about to rebuke him, but his father cuts in. “You are honourable in choosing this path rather than encumber us. You have my respect, son.”

He presses his forehead deeper into the ground, biting back his words. “Thank you, Otou-san.”

His mother’s arms encircle him then, lifting his weakened body from the ground. He tries not to lean on her as much as possible, to try and walk on his own two feet, but it is difficult.

She aids him to his room, and he lies down, whispering his thanks. She leaves him with a smile and a squeeze of his hands – the most affectionate she will allow herself to be.

At the doorway, she murmurs through the crack, “Your father is right. You honour us in your choice, though you know I wish you had chosen differently.”

He smiles at the door as it closes. “You know I would never have chosen otherwise,” he tells his empty room. “This is my last shot at life, and I am going to take it.”

\-----

It is the summer of his nineteenth year, and he is dying.

He doesn’t know why he is the only one affected, but the degenerative disease has been in his family bloodline for generations. He supposes it is lucky that his younger sister didn’t get it, but he still harbours resentment towards it, for taking away half his third year of high school, and any future years of his life.

He remembers captaining the team from the bench for their last few games, of having to pass on the mantle of official setter because ten minutes of setting left him wheezing. He remembers passing on the title of captain too early, because he could no longer hold himself upright in practice, let alone shout and give instructions. He remembers Kawanishi helping him to class and back to their room every day, the looks of pity his classmates and teachers gave him.

He remembers hearing about the medical breakthrough, the call for participants in the final round of pilot studies. He remembers the faint hope it gave him, even as his parents disagreed.

But he didn’t care then, and he doesn’t care now.

It is the last chance for him to perhaps live a normal life, if it is successful. If it is not, he would have died anyway, but at least in this way, he would contribute to the furthering of medical research.

In front of them, the glass doors slide open, the smell of disinfectant wafting out to greet them.

\-----

“Thank you.”

“I hope you survive this.”

“I hope so too.”

Kawanishi shakes his head. “I mean, I hope you’ll stay yourself.”

Shirabu smiles self-deprecatingly, squeezing his hand. It is the slightest pressure, though the blond knows he’s trying his hardest. “Brain surgery always has liabilities. _I_ won’t even know if I’m still myself after this.”

Kawanishi huffs in exasperation, knocking his knee against his. “Nice to know you can still joke.”

“I’m being completely serious though.”

“Right, right.”

\----

The last thing he sees and hears and smells is all of the operating theatre. It is not white-walled as he expected, nor does the air smell particularly clean, but the lights are definitely blinding, and the neatly laid out scalpels look threatening.

He almost welcomes the cloying smell of isoflurane, sinking into the darkness.

\-----

He wakes slowly, but his eyes won’t open, and he can’t move.

He tries to breathe slowly, but can’t seem to regulate his breathing.

(It doesn’t matter, because he seems to be breathing evenly, but why can’t he control himself?)

It feels like an eternity staring into the blackness, but he falls asleep.

\-----

He wakes, and thinks he remembers his name.

_ My name is Shirabu Kenjirou, and I turned nineteen a while ago. _

He cannot remember much else, and the world is still dark.

\-----

He thinks he dreams. Of maroon jerseys and taped fingers, and the satisfying sound of a ball slamming into the ground. He tries to remember, but it is difficult. Trying to force out thoughts when there is nothing there exhausts him, and he feels wrung out, like someone’s been squeezing his brain too hard.

But suddenly, in the midst of relaxing and an invisible lump in his throat and giving up, the name comes to him.

_ Volleyball. _

\-----

This time when he wakes, the world is bright.

His vision isn’t blurry, he is seeing clearly, and he can see a room in his peripheral vision, though his eyes are fixed on a vase of flowers. They are pretty, he supposes, but he is more concerned by his lack of ability to move.

**_ Hello. You’re awake. _ **

It’s definitely not him that thought that – his mental voice isn’t as deep, nor is it that warm and polite.

_ Who are you? Why can’t I move? _

_ This is weird. _

He thinks he hears the other voice laugh, and his body moves, his arm reaching out for a glass of water. The water is cool in his mouth and soothing against his throat, and though it isn’t him swallowing reflexively, he enjoys the sensation.

**_ Do you remember what happened? _ **

_ No. Not much. _

It is true, he thinks. He faintly recalls a head of blond hair, the sound of a ball hitting flesh, and lights, bright white, unlike the warm glow of indoor courts.

_ Oh. A surgery. _

**_ Yes.  _ ** The other – he thinks it’s a young man – smiles, and sets the glass down. **_Do you want me to tell you?_**

_ No. I want to try and remember. _

His forehead against the ground. The antiseptic smell of the hospital. The weakness in his limbs.

_ I was…dying. _

**_ Yes. _ **

_ A brain surgery? _

**_ To transplant your mind into mine. _ **

He recalls more now, of a medical breakthrough, of a call for volunteers, of attempts to meld two minds together to save one dying person.

_ Oh. You’re my donor. _

**_ Yes. Hello. _ **

_ Hello. _

It is so weird, he thinks.

_ Can I see who you are? _

**_ I’ll get a mirror. _ **

The other reaches out, and he watches his hand stretch, noting the corded muscles, the defined forearms, the long fingers.

Then the reflection of light off the mirror catches his eye, and he stares at his new reflection.

Cocoa brown eyes, thick brows, bandages wrapping around a high forehead.

A memory hits him so hard, he’s surprised he doesn’t die again.

He knows that face.

But he can’t remember his name.

**_ Can I look at our medical records? I want to know who you are. _ **

_ Sure. _

He wonders how his mental voice sounds as cool as it does, because he can feel his phantom heart seizing, his imaginary palms slick with sweat.

He knows who his donor is.

The young man picks up the clipboard, eyes scanning the names.

Their names are printed side by side, in adjacent columns. He skims over the kanji of his own name, gaze fixated on the one opposite his.

His phantom heart lurches in horror, the final piece clicking into place.

_ Semi-san. _

“Shirabu?”

The clipboard tilts in limp fingers, but he cannot catch it – he has no strength, he can’t even feel his fingers. Memories are swirling to the surface, and he cannot take the tidal wave of them.

He thinks he hears Semi calling for him, but he has fallen, sinking into the depths of unconsciousness.


	2. Learning, and Cohabitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Bia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/poeticalcreation) gave me a very compelling image, so here's some [art](http://snobadi.tumblr.com/post/168465818229/a-little-something-that-poeticalcreation-and-i) I drew for this

He comes to at the sound of a voice – a familiar voice, _his_ voice – and the image of a curious lady in a comfy chair across him.

Them. It’s _them_ now, because he is no longer alone in his mind.

**_Shirabu. Shirabu._ **

_What is it?_

(His voice sounds like an echo from far off, disjointed and tinny.)

 ** _Oh, good, you’re up._** Semi sounds relieved. **_I've been calling you for a while._**

His memories are still fuzzy, and he can’t feel his body, he feels like a spectator in his own mind. _Oh. How long was I out?_

**_A week or so? We've been released from hospital, but this is therapy-slash-check-up-one._ **

A week. He lost a week.

_Oh. What are we supposed to do?_

**_I’ll ask._ **

Their eyes are fixed more firmly on the lady now, and he hears Semi say, “I’ve got him.”

Funny, how voices in your head always sound weird and different from what's actually said. Semi's voice is deeper in his head, but his manner of speech is as pleasant as he remembers.

The lady smiles. “That’s a good sign. Shirabu-kun, how are you today?”

 _Peachy_ , he grumbles, and hears Semi laugh. He’s almost surprised – Semi never would have done that before.

 ** _That’s only because you’re not as politely aggressive as you normally would be,_** he teases. **_Come on now, what do I actually tell her?_**

_Tell her I’m fine or something. Tired._

Semi repeats his words, but they are stilted, delivered in a way that he himself doesn’t understand.

**_Hey. Don’t go back to sleep again._ **

_I’m…not._ He’s trying, he really is, but he’s falling, sideways and through a wall, and everything seems like it’s coming from behind a glass panel.

It feels like a dream, and he has no energy to right himself, so he lets it sweep him up in its flow.

\-----

**_Shirabu? Shirabu?_ **

Silence greets him, though he’s aware of his presence in the back of his mind. Semi huffs under his breath, turning to the therapist with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve lost him again.”

“That’s alright, it’s to be expected.” She smiles and makes a note on her clipboard. “Can you tell me if he’s still there? Or does it feel like he’s gone back to sleep?”

“He’s still there,” he answers honestly, though he doesn’t feel the other presence in his mind stir. “But he’s quiet.”

“Could you explain that to me?”

“It’s like…” He wreaks his brain for an analogy, trying to ignore the throbbing behind his right eye. “It’s like seeing someone is online in a group chat, but they’re not talking at all. Kind of hovering, not trying to talk.”

“Ah.” The lady – Mizoguchi, he thinks – makes another note, then smiles reassuringly at him. “That’s expected as well. He’s still getting used to being in a body that’s not his, and that he has no control over. I expect it’s disorientating.”

“I can imagine.”

(Except that he can, because sometimes he catches glimpses and mutters from the secluded corner of his brain, and it’s always about _panic_ over the loss of control.)

Mizoguchi smiles again, and hands him a piece of paper. “Try to keep track of when he’s awake, and how coherent he is. If he can stay awake for a whole day, make another appointment, and we’ll see how he can adapt to learning to use a body again.”

He takes the sheet and thanks her, exiting quietly.

He can still feel the presence in the back of his mind, watching, but not speaking.

**_I wonder if you heard all that. Let’s get you up as soon as possible._ **

He thinks he feels a tinge of surprise, but says nothing more, heading home.

\-----

The world floats by in snippets, wisps of a dream half realised. He isn’t completely sure what’s real and what’s a part of his imagination, what’s a waking dream or the reality that he can reach out and touch.

Not that he can. Reach out and touch something, that is.

What feels like a straining, an active expression of intention – they turn out to be nothing at all.

He is confined, stuck in his prison, with no way out and no way to express himself.

He is paralysed in a coffin of his own choosing, and the nightmare is becoming ever more real.

\-----

He wakes to the sound of singing, to something off-pitch and straining before it dips into something more acceptable.

He grumbles to himself, mildly surprised and irritated when the singing stops. He was just beginning to enjoy it too.

**_I guess I’m not surprised that you can insult and compliment me in the same sentence._ **

Maybe he said something, but Semi snorts. **_Yes, I can hear you._**

He doesn’t understand.

**_I don’t recall you being this talkative in high school._ **

But he isn’t talking. He doesn’t feel like he is.

**_Maybe you haven’t learnt to separate your thoughts and what you want to say yet._ **

That makes sense, he thinks.

**_Can I continue without you insulting me?_ **

He thinks he rolls his eyes, and from the tinge of annoyance he feels, perhaps he succeeded.

\-----

He wakes and is able to speak somewhat this time – if arguing counts as speaking.

But it’s a form of communication that he’s intimately familiar with, and he feels a sort of relief at the huffy silence that stretches between them after.

Perhaps he’s regaining a little control, after all.

**_This is so weird._ **

_Shut up. I’m not talking to you._

**_You’re in my head, even if you’re not talking to me,_ ** **you’re talking to me.**

_Actually, there is_ _a difference._

**_Oh?_ **

_Yeah._ He is quiet for a while, thinking, and watches Semi toy with his phone mindlessly while waiting for him to speak.

_Only when I speak out loud am I talking to you, and when I’m just thinking to myself, you don’t hear it? That’s sort of what it feels like._

**_How do you tell the difference, though?_ **

_…I’m working on it._

Semi snorts. **_Good luck with that._**

_Stay out of my head while I think._

**_…I hope you know how weird and contradictory that is._ **

_Shhh, I’m thinking._

He falls silent, and Semi listens for a while longer before shrugging and picking up the record sheet.

He makes a note on the sheet of paper – _Day 5, 15 mins of talking –_ and winces at the sudden shrieking in his brain.

_I thought I told you to stay out of my head!_

**_This sheet isn’t about what’s in your head, it’s about progress!_ **

_Yes, you’re very good at keeping track,_ Shirabu comments sarcastically. _And I_ heard _that._

**_I said nothing._ **

_‘…what’s in your head,_ or lack thereof’ _?_

**_It’s true._ **

_Where do you get this sudden sass from?_

**_You do realise you’re in my head, right._ **

_My thoughts don’t leak over into yours!_

**_Hmm._ **

_Ugh._

Times like this, he wonders why he thought sharing a body was a good idea.

\-----

Control is a fine focus knob, and just a little bit too much or too little can make a huge difference.

He doesn’t know how to control it.

Shouting might be heard or ignored – whispering as well. What he wants heard may not be spoken, and his private thoughts may be voiced aloud. It sparks many arguments, this miscommunication, especially because he cannot convey his apologies properly.

He can’t even punch a wall, because he doesn’t have the control to do so.

\-----

But with every sleep and wake cycle, he grows a little surer of himself. A little more able to convey what he wants, and how he wants it. He doesn’t always manage to stay awake – it’s too easy to fall asleep when you don’t have to consciously do anything – and sometimes, being awake doesn’t guarantee that he can speak.

It’s like a wall of soundproof glass; he can see but not comment, and pounding on the barrier only results in endless frustration. He is enclosed in a bubble, a fish tank of one-way glass. Those days, all he can do is watch.

\-----

Watching is only good for one thing – to keep him sane.

He notices little details he might have missed before, because every moment that he can consciously do something is a breakthrough; every other second a waiting game. He watches, and makes his observations. Sometimes, his musings are heard; sometimes, they are bounced back to him in his bubble. But every day passes with the membrane between them growing ever more permeable, and it is sometimes enough for a chat.

Some of these good days are worse than others – they argue about everything and nothing, with no breaks in between. Some of those days are mercifully quiet, and they indulge in peaceful moments together, reading a book or the like. Some days, he is locked back in the bubble – but he can hear more clearly now, and can feel how disorienting it is to Semi.

“I know it hasn’t been that long,” he tells Mizoguchi, while prodding at the corner of his brain that he affectionately dubbed _Shirabu’s room_. (Shirabu feels mildly amused and honoured by this.) “But it feels weird when he isn’t yelling at me for doing anything in general. Or just lurking in the back of my mind.”

“How long does he stay awake on average?” She asks, making a note.

“It’s been getting longer. About an hour, these days.” Semi stops to think, before adding, “He talks to me for about an hour, but I think he might be awake for longer. I can’t tell that well.”

(An hour? Only an hour?)

(No wonder he’s going crazy, cooped up with no way of communication.)

“That’s excellent progress.” Mizoguchi smiles and scribbles something else, then hands him another sheet. “You can try getting him to move, if he feels up to it, and record his progress. We’ll meet again soon.”

He nods and thanks her, exiting the room.

(In the back of his mind, he feels what can only be described as petulant sulking. He wants to say something, but nothing seems right, so he settles for a **_You can do it_.** )

(He thinks he feels a smile in a return. Or if nothing else, the lifting of feelings.)

\-----

It does get easier, despite their doubts.

The barrier between them is practically gone; thoughts traded back and forth easily.

One morning, a tightening of fingers on the toothbrush, an adjustment of grip.

Another time, a jerking of a knee when they are sitting, reading quietly.

The flicking of eyes to opposing stimuli, Semi looking to something before his gaze is directed elsewhere, definitely not by his own will.

It’s kind of disconcerting.

 ** _Could you maybe, you know,_** **tell me** **_before you do something?_**

_If I could control it, maybe, yeah._

**_What are you trying to do?_ **

_I’m just trying to move, in general._ Shirabu sounds so frustrated, it’s a tiny bit difficult to stay angry with him. _But I_ can’t control it.

Semi is quiet, thinking. **_So what’s different on those times that you manage to make a movement?_**

Shirabu snorts. _I don’t know. Maybe I wasn’t thinking too much about it and just moved?_

**_Then try it right now._ **

_What, you think I haven’t been trying?_

**_Just try._ **

A tightening of fingers, nails biting into his skin. _I_ am _trying._

Semi looks at his hand pointedly, a smug smile coming over his face. **_Evidently._**

_I AM trying, what are you talking about–_

**I _certainly don’t dig my nails into my palm._**

His hand relaxes, and he can feel the open-mouthed shock from the corner of his brain.

Semi directs his smuggest thoughts towards Shirabu as he reaches for the progress sheet.

\-----

Progress isn’t easy all the time, Shirabu finds, when he knocks Semi’s phone off the nightstand while reaching to turn the alarm off.

_Stupid long arms._

“Shut up,” Semi grumbles aloud, bending over the side of the bed to locate the shrieking phone.

_Are you talking to me or the phone?_

“Both of you,” Semi yawns, switching the alarm off and burrowing under the covers. “We get to sleep in, why is the alarm even on?”

_Who knows._

**_Ah, shut up._ **

Shirabu tugs the covers a bit higher over their nose instead of replying, and settles in for a nap.

He doesn’t notice the tinge of irritation as Semi pushes the blanket back down so he can breathe.

\-----

Progress seems to come faster on days that they are late.

_Run faster, damnit._

**_Then you move us faster, smartass. Whose fault is it that we’re late anyway?_ **

_Hey, I held that glass for long enough. Why would you let me pick up a fragile item if you knew I might drop it, huh?_

**_Maybe because I had a little bit of faith in you?_ **

_Oh, how touching._

**_Shut up, you ass._ **

_Run faster._

**_You do it, then!_ **

A spike of frustration from Shirabu, and he feels his legs grow numb as they move into a dead sprint. He’s so shocked he nearly stops running, but an angry snap from his brain-mate keeps him going.

“Do you think it’s the adrenaline that makes the control easier?” He asks Mizoguchi later.

She taps her pen against her clipboard, contemplative. “Perhaps. There are a lot of factors involved, and no one has fully documented the process yet, so we can’t be sure.”

Shirabu snorts. “Yeah, that’s why we’re the guinea pigs.”

“That is a rather coarse way of putting it, but yes,” Mizoguchi agrees.

Semi’s too stunned to tell her that it wasn’t him who said that.

(Apparently, Shirabu is too, because he stays silent for the rest of their meeting.)

\-----

But progress is apparent, and it’s difficult to find a day now where they _haven’t_ progressed in some way.

(It’s always a tiny action that sparks the sudden growth, though neither of them know how well or long he can maintain it.)

(Not that it really matters, when he willingly gives control over most times.)

_Your hair looks ridiculous._

“Hey, it’s not as bad as when I was still bald,” Semi complains, running a comb through the short strands.

 _Yes,_ that _was a trip._

“Well, I’m _sorry_ I let them cut my head open to put you in.”

_You couldn’t have kept any of it?_

“It was cleaner and more effective to just shave it all off.” Semi stares at his reflection, a raising an eyebrow. “Why? Do _you_ miss my hair?”

_You wish._

“Stop lying to yourself.”

_It just looks weird, okay?_

“Because it’s short or because it’s my natural colour?”

_Both. Are you ever going to dye it back?_

“So you _do_ miss the colour.”

_I said it looks weird!_

“It’s my natural colour, get used to it.”

 _Whatever._ Shirabu hurriedly jumps onto a new topic. _Why do you comb your hair if it’s so short anyway?_

“Habit? And because it feels weird to have it sticking up all over the place.”

_It’s so short that it’s not really sticking up anywhere._

“No, it’s getting messier as it grows back. Was your hair never messy?”

 _Never_. Shirabu denies, but Semi catches a glimpse of a flat-iron and endless frustration.

A smirk crawls over his face, and he doesn’t even pretend to hide it. “I knew your hair couldn’t naturally be that perfectly straight.”

 _Rubbish._ Shirabu tries to act outraged, but Semi knows him too well by now to let the falsehood slide. _Lies and slander_.

**_Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that._ **

_I will, thanks._

\-----

If they’re not arguing about inane things in some way, they’re fighting over who has control over certain things.

**_It’s your turn to wash dishes._ **

_Nope nope nope–_

**_GET BACK HERE._ **

…usually they fight over who’s in control, not over who’s shirking his duties.

But it’s fun and funny and weird even at the best of times, and they grow used to sharing where before they had absolute control.

(Even if they still mess up sometimes.)

_What do you want for dinner?_

**_Dunno._ **

_Instant ramen?_

**_Too unhealthy._ **

_Steamed corn, then._

**_Too boring._ **

_There’s some meat in the fridge, isn’t there? Fry that with corn._

**_What is it with you and corn?_ **

_That’s the only thing in the freezer?_

**_I hate that you’re right._ **

_We need to go for groceries tomorrow._

**_You can go, while I sleep in._ **

_…you know that’s not allowed._

**_You’re almost completely fine at controlling my body anyway._ **

_I beg to differ._

**_If you can cook dinner, you can go for groceries._ **

_…you know how close I come to nearly cutting off your fingers every time I hold a knife?_

**_On purpose?_ **

_By_ accident.

**_I’m surprised you’re so thoughtful._ **

_You realise this is now my body as well?_

**_Oh wow, I hadn’t noticed._ **

There’s nothing but huffy silence from Shirabu, and Semi cracks a smile at that, stretching leisurely.

**_Fine, I’ll make dinner._ **

_Don’t forget the onions._

**_Shush._ **

_Don’t forget the salt._

**_You say that, as if I can ever forget the salt with you here._ **

_EXCUSE YOU._

But Shirabu really has come a long way, and even if he still knocks things off the table by accident or picks too small clothes to wear sometimes, it’s undeniable that he is competent enough.

“I think the two of you are clear,” Mizoguchi comments at the end of their next session. She smiles at them, writing something and tearing off a slip from her clipboard. “Pass this to the receptionist when you leave. It’ll clear you, and you can go back to work next week.”

Semi stares at the slip for too long, so Shirabu shoulders him out of the way, reaching for the paper. He manages to stop himself before he reaches too far, mentally congratulating himself for being halfway competent.

 ** _You_** **are _competent,_** Semi comments, gently pushing him aside, taking back control. **_You’re pretty good_**.

_Thank you._

Semi doesn’t think that sounds sarcastic, for once.

“Oh, Semi-kun, Shirabu-kun, one more thing.”

They lift their head to look at Mizoguchi, watching as she signs the paper she’s holding, handing it to them with a flourish.

“Go down to the Ministry of Registry sometime this week and get a new identification card with both your names on it. Congratulations, you’ve made it through the pilot study.”

Semi reaches for the slip this time, as Shirabu stares on in shock.

A nudge, a teasing remark, and they thank Mizoguchi, finally leaving to settle matters with the receptionist.

It’s not until they are halfway back to the house that Shirabu manages to speak.

_A new… ID?_

Semi snorts. **_Yeah. They told me that before, when I signed up. Didn’t they tell you?_**

_Maybe. I don’t remember. I never thought that far._

**_You thought it wouldn’t work._** Semi's voice is soft.

_I didn’t have high hopes, no._

**_Well,_** Semi draws out, **_What do you think now?_**

_I…_

He takes a moment to ponder.

_I guess I’m glad to be alive._

Semi smiles, and Shirabu can feel the way his expression softens. **_Then this will be the next big step. Coming back into society._**

(It’s a nice thought, Shirabu thinks.)

_Does this count as coming back from the dead?_

He can feel Semi’s surprise, the shaking that comes with suppressed laughter.

**_I guess so. I don’t think they destroyed your records though._ **

_Hmm._

(Coming back from the dead. He made it.)

(He survived, he didn’t die.)

(It’s kind of amazing.)

And as he marvels, there’s another thought, a spreading awareness. A blip of curiosity.

_You never told me where you work._

Semi jerks a little in realisation. **_Oh, yeah._**

_That’s not an answer._

**_I work at a vet clinic._ **

_Receptionist?_

**_No, I’m the nurse._** Two seconds later, the teasing tone of the other’s voice registers. **_Wait._**

_You’re competent enough to be more than a receptionist, I know._

The cacophony of snickers in the back of his head makes him roll his eyes, but it’s heartwarming to know that he has such faith in him.

_Why a vet clinic?_

Shirabu thinks he feels a tendril of sheepishness from him. **_I wanted to work with animals but I don’t really want to do the surgery._**

_Why not? Surgery is cool._

**_You’ll change your mind,_** Semi tells him confidently. **_Too much blood makes anyone squeamish after a while._**

_Hmm. We’ll see._

A few beats of silence, and Semi puts the matter out of mind, pointedly not thinking about blood and spilled guts.

_Semi-san._

**_Hmm?_ **

_Aren’t you going to go for further studies, if you want to work with animals?_

**_I don’t see a need to_** , he tells him. **_What I’m doing now is enough._**

_I sense a ‘but' in there._

A heavy sigh. **_But the work wears on you. I might not stay in this field for long._**

_Would you go for higher education then?_

**_I’m not really interested in studying more._ **

_I could help you._

**_No, that’s alright. I want to do this on my own merit._ **

Shirabu is silent then, but something tells Semi that he’s not done. **_Spit it out if you have something to say._**

_…I want to study._

**_What subject?_ **

_I don’t know. Science. Something._ He sounds tired, resigned. _I never had to think about it before, because I wasn’t going to live that long._

It hits Semi then, that he doesn’t know.

**_Is_ ** **that _why you asked to be part of the pilot study?_**

_I figured I had nothing left to lose._

His tone is weary, and carries a note of finality. Semi wants to know more, but he figures that he’d tell him, if he wanted to.

(Maybe sometime.)

**_I have a proposition._ **

_What?_

**_You watch me work, and decide what you want to study. If I have enough money saved by the time I decide to quit, you can choose the university and course and we’ll go study that._ **

_You would do that?_ Shirabu sounds shocked, and really, Semi can’t blame him.

**_It’s not like I have anything in mind after this job._ **

He says nothing, but feels the tiny thrill of excitement from the other. _Thank you._

**_We share a body. We ought to compromise more often._ **

_That reminds me._

**_What?_ **

_Where did you learn such big words?_

Semi has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from spluttering aloud. **_I read!_**

_Who would’ve thought?_

**_Why you…_ **

Shirabu laughs at his fuming, and while he’s still mad, Semi has to admit that it’s the first time he’s heard him laugh since they started sharing a body.


	3. This is ‘Normal’

The vet clinic is a small shop beneath the blocks of flats, its exterior plain and unassuming. It may not look like much, but Semi smiles all the same, glad to be back.

_You actually like working here, don’t you?_

**_Yeah._ **

A gentle beat of hesitation, a posed question. _What are the people like?_

He doesn’t have to think, because his co-workers are exasperatingly memorable.

**_Quirky. Friendly. Down-to-earth. I could introduce you to them._ **

_You mean you’d let me pretend I don’t exist?_

Shirabu sounds gleeful, and Semi frowns.

**_They know I was in the pilot study. They might want to meet you._ **

_…damnit._

The sulkiness emanating from him makes him laugh, smiling as he steps into the clinic.

“Oi, who’s there?”

He feels a jerk at the back of his mind at the loud voice, but Semi rolls his eyes. “It’s just me.”

A man with messy black hair leans round the side of a door, his initial bright expression dropping as he takes in his figure. “Dude. Your hair.”

Shirabu snickers. _Told you your hair was weird._

**_Shut up._ **

Semi turns back to the man. “Seriously, boss? I had brain surgery. Of course they had to shave my head.”

“Well, I expected your hair to grow back faster.”

_“I had my head sliced open.”_

“Still. Thought you’d dye it again or something.”

Semi can feel Shirabu buzzing with suppressed laughter, and aims a jab at him sourly.

“No point when it’s still this short.”

“Eh, you’re probably right. Makes you look a bit like Yaku, but I’ll live.”

As Shirabu wonders who this ‘Yaku’ person is, Semi snorts. “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

The messy-haired man yelps just as the words are out of Semi’s mouth, a shorter, sandy-haired man pushing the first out of the doorway and striding over to him. Shirabu watches with mild amusement as he punches Semi good-naturedly, feels the smile that spreads ear to ear.

“Hey. It’s good to have you back.”

“Likewise. I missed this place.”

The man snorts. “You can’t really have.”

He feels Semi shrug. “I like working. Lazing around at home was nice but got boring.”

“Speaking of which,” the messy-haired man leans against the doorway again, arms folded, a smirk on his face. “Aren’t you going to introduce your new friend to us?”

Semi smirks back. “He’s competent, he can introduce himself.”

Turning his thoughts inward, he prods Shirabu. **_Go on._**

_Eugh, do I have to?_

**_They’re good people. You don’t have to talk much to them after, promise._ **

There’s a great deal of mumbling and sighing, but he gives in relatively quickly. _Fine. Give me control._

**_Go ahead._ **

Shirabu shakes himself out, fingers twitching as full sensation floods his body. He turns to the other two, bowing. “I’m Shirabu Kenjirou. It’s nice to meet you.”

(It’s still so weird, to speak and hear not his voice but Semi’s.)

The sandy-haired man speaks first, returning his gesture. “Yaku Morisuke. I look forward to working with you.”

_Oh_ , Shirabu thinks, this _is Yaku_.

The messy-haired man bows somewhat sarcastically. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Don’t mess up.”

Shirabu feels a flare of irritation, but holds his tongue. “I look forward to learning.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows but does not comment. He claps his hands instead, pushing the door fully open. “If you want to learn, then come on. We need to open soon.”

Yaku gives him a thumbs-up as he follows Kuroo, and Shirabu follows reluctantly.

Semi taps him, gently requesting control. **_Kuroo's an asshole to everyone he first meets. But he’s a nice guy, really._**

He passes control over with a tinge of relief. _What about Yaku-san?_

**_Yaku's stern but nice. Both of them are hard workers._ **

_Okay._

**_Just 'okay'?_ **

_I’m watching and learning._

**_Just ask questions if you want to know something._ **

_Okay._

Semi seems mildly irritated by the flux of ‘okay’s, and Shirabu has to hide his laugh.

\-----

Shirabu’s so busy marvelling at his first real look in a vet clinic that he almost misses Yaku talking to Semi.

“So what was that rooster-head saying about me and you looking the same?”

Semi doesn’t hide his snort. “Short hair apparently makes us twins.”

“That idiot.” Yaku rolls his eyes. “Our hair isn’t even the same colour.”

“I know.”

“If you dyed it now, maybe we might, though.”

Semi laughs. “Nah. If I do that, some of the customers are going to start wondering why you keep changing heights.”

“Watch it, Semi,” Yaku warns, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eye. “I missed your joking, but not _that_ much.”

Semi holds his hands up in surrender, but Shirabu can feel the smile he’s biting back. “Got it.”

\-----

As it turns out, working is a lot different from studying.

Watching Semi work makes him feel like he is in an internship, learning something completely different, something completely out of his field of knowledge. There are a million questions burning to be asked, but he holds them back, observing and trying not to be overwhelmed.

Some things, he is familiar with – manning the reception counter, taking down names and checking appointment cards, looking for free dates for the follow-up appointments.

Some things are slightly less familiar – drugs and how often they have to be administered, smiling and greeting customers, changing the litter, food and water bowls in the cages of the pets that need to stay overnight.

Some things are completely new to him. Like surgery.

_I thought you’d wear_ more _into the surgical theatre._

**_You’re not wrong._** Semi tucks his hair under a hairnet, hooks a mask over his ears. **_There’s usually more, but we’re a small clinic, so it isn’t necessary._**

_What’re the other parts?_

**_There’s usually a gown and shoe covers._ **

_What’s their function?_

**_Of those, or everything?_ **

Shirabu makes a noise of dissent. _Everything_.

Semi rolls his eyes. He knew that was coming.

**_A hairnet for keeping your hair out of the surgical and sterile zone. Shoe covers, so that you won’t carry any biologically hazardous material out of the theatre. Mask, so you won’t breathe germs onto the sterile area. Gown, to prevent our clothes from getting splattered with hazardous material. Gloves, for preventing contamination._ **

**_Everything more or less prevents external contaminants from getting into the sterile zone, and prevents biological hazardous material from infecting you if there is a cut somewhere on your body._ **

_…basically to protect yourself and the patient._

**_Wasn’t that obvious?_ **

_They didn’t teach this to us in school._

**_Ugh. Go back to watching._ **

Surgery is fascinating, and he marvels at Kuroo's quick work while Semi assists. Their work dynamic is so smooth – surgical instruments and implements handed over with just the extension of a hand, skin pinched together while the other person sutures – that he can’t help but gape at it all.

In a moment of reprieve, Semi prods him, and he can hear the smirk in his voice. **_Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies._**

_I’m not allowed to be amazed, now?_

**_I’m surprised you’re not disgusted by it._ **

_It’s so_ fascinating _. Why would I be disgusted?_

Semi sounds amused. **_Not many people are as indifferent to the sight of blood as you._**

_But it’s so_ interesting. _Look at how the organ systems connect to each other so fluidly!_

His amazement is endearing, and Semi can’t help the fondness in his voice. **_Nerd._**

_Shh, let me be amazed._

Semi snorts and returns his focus to his task, but he can almost feel the sparkles and awe pouring in from Shirabu’s corner of his brain. It’s nice, he thinks, that they can get along sometimes.

\-----

_I think the animals hate me._

**_Why would they?_ **

They are cleaning out the cages, with Semi demonstrating and allowing Shirabu to try his hand at it after. The younger is relatively good at it, and his meticulous nature makes the task easier.

_They keep growling at me._

**_They growl at me, too._ **

_Not really._

**_Yes, they do. You just have to be gentle with them. Let them smell you first, so they know what they’re dealing with._ **

_I do!_

**_Maybe they smell your fear._ **

_I am_ not _afraid._

**_Any hesitation you show will be picked up by them._** Shirabu can feel the shrug intended for him, and grinds his teeth. **_Besides, these are sick animals, and we are strangers to them. It’s not unusual for them to hate us._**

_Maybe._

**_But it’s true._** Semi reaches into the cage, placing new bedding and fresh water. **_Wild or stray animals are cautious of people, especially if they’ve been hurt before._**

_Have you been bitten or scratched by one before?_

A snort. **_I’m a vet nurse, of course I’ve been scratched before. It’s just how you handle them, so that they can’t injure you._**

_Oh?_

**_Yeah. We got a stray cat in once, by one of Kuroo’s friends. The cat was bleeding from its nose and couldn’t eat, and would only let the friend touch it. It wouldn’t stop growling at us, and we had to sedate it before we could find the problem._ **

_What was the problem?_

**_Broken hard palate. The roof of your mouth, you know? The poor thing was in so much pain._ **

_How do you stand it?_ Shirabu asks. _Looking at animals in pain?_

**_That’s what we do here,_** he tells him. **_We get sick animals in, find their problem and try to alleviate their pain. It’s only different from humans because the animals are less likely to yell at us for being idiots._**

_They do scream and shout a lot, though._ Shirabu recalls a case earlier that day, where a dog wouldn’t stop whimpering.

**_They’re in pain and distress, of course they’d be yelling._** Semi sounds amused. **_Speaking of that, would you want to go to a talk sometime later this week?_**

_What’s it about?_

**_Anthropomorphism, or so I heard. Yaku said one of his lecturers is going to talk about it, and I thought it sounded interesting._ **

_What’s anthropomorphism?_

**_…I thought you were the smart one?_ **

_They didn’t teach this to us in school._

**_You’re not wrong,_** Semi comments thoughtfully. **_Anthropomorphism is giving animals human characteristics._**

_Such as?_

**_Say, for example, a cat is hissing at you. What would you say it was feeling?_ **

_That it’s angry?_

**_Maybe, or maybe not. Hissing is what cats do to warn predators or enemies off, and it could be because they’re being protective of their territory, they’re frightened, or they’re angry. You can’t really assume you know why it was hissing at you._ **

There’s silence from Shirabu, and he can almost hear him thinking. _That makes sense._

**_So we’re going to the talk?_ **

_Sure._

Half a heartbeat later, _We’re allowed to sit in on lectures like that?_

**_Lecturers don’t take attendance._ **

_So we could sit in on any lecture and get free education?_ Shirabu sounds gleeful, and Semi rolls his eyes.

**_If you don’t take the exam, you can’t get a degree._ **

_But we can still_ learn.

**_You are such a nerd, have I told you that?_ **

_Only every other day. Let me dream._

\-----

Working, Shirabu finds, is more or less pleasant when he doesn’t have to deal with customers. The animals, he could learn to handle. The humans, on the other hand…

_I hate people_ , he complains, shrinking back into his corner once the payment has been made. Semi takes control back from him, idly tapping his pen on the table.

**_You need to get used to it._ **

_I know, but they’re so_ stupid.

**_They are exasperatingly dense sometimes, yes._ **

_How do you– Never mind, I forget that you’ve been doing this for a long time._

**_I told you it wears on you._ **

_You didn’t say it was the people._

**_It’s a little of both._ **

He grumbles to himself, but he knows Semi's right. He has to get used to it.

He hears a loud _smack_ from the examination room, and raises his eyes to scan the waiting room, wondering if anyone heard that.

Semi snorts.

**_No, that’s not nearly loud enough._ **

_…what._

**_It used to be a lot worse,_** Semi tells him drily. **_Nowadays, they keep the noise down enough that you can only hear it through this little window._**

Shirabu glances through the window that opens into the examination room, and immediately wants to bleach his brain.

**_The pet owner is in the one in blue, sitting in the leftmost corner of the waiting room,_** Semi comments, turning his gaze back and doodling something on the paper. **_Don’t worry about whatever's happening in there._**

_I’m– Just– Isn’t that unprofessional?_

(His internal screaming is so loud but he isn’t sure if Semi can hear him or not.)

**_Hardly._** A pair of cat ears appear on the crudely sketched circle. **_Kuroo's the boss, and it’s just the three of us. They can do whatever they want._**

Shirabu thinks his voice sounds rather emotionless.

**_I’m dead inside, don’t talk to me about their PDA._ **

_Poor you._

**_Not really._** Semi snorts. **_I think you’re going to suffer more than me._**

_I am_ not _looking any more._

**_It’s not really something you can unsee,_** he points out. **_You’ll see this more times than you can think._**

_Wait, what was that?_

**_What was what?_ **

Clean lines splitting a page, two columns filled with strikes. _…a scoresheet?_

**_Oh, that? You’re welcome to make your own._ **

It's almost ridiculous. _You kept a scoresheet. Of your boss and colleague’s PDA escapades._

**_You missed a column. There was also one for violence._ **

_Oooh, now_ that _I want to see._

**_Yaku wins most of the time._ **

_I still need to see that._

Semi lets out a small chuckle. **_It’s a one-in-a-lifetime experience._**

_Not really, if your statistics are correct._

**_It gets old, after you realise that Yaku always wins in a physical fight and Kuroo wins in a verbal one._ **

_I’m curious, now._

**_Maybe you’ll get to see it tomorrow. It’s funny._ **

It happens a lot sooner than Semi anticipates.

Shirabu nearly drops the broom when he hears shouts rising from the surgical room, but at Semi's urging, slides closer to the door to listen.

“Could we not have fish _for once_?”

“It is only the second time this week!”

“Twice is too much!”

“Like I keep saying, you need the docosahexaenoic acid–”

“That argument is years old, and you know it!”

Shirabu feels a bubble of amusement. _He knows the full name of DHA._

**_Kuroo’s the biggest nerd around here_** , Semi agrees. **_I think that’s how he became a vet so quickly._**

_Am I allowed to pester him?_

**_You’d do it even if I said no._ **

_I can be polite sometimes,_ Shirabu protests.

**_Of course._** He sounds so condescending that Shirabu aims a mental jab at him.

It looks easy, but sometimes, the two columns of the scoresheet are horrendously difficult to mark.

_Crashing has stopped. Obnoxious kissing noises begin._

**_Shut_ ** **up.**

_Someone has to document this._

**_What do you think I did for the past year?_ **

_Work?_

**_Maybe about thirty percent of the time._ **

_That’s reassuring._

**_Twenty percent is trying not to listen to them._ **

There’s a low groan from the other room, and they wince simultaneously.

_And the other fifty percent?_

**_…trying not to kill them._ **

That seems like an awful waste of energy, Shirabu thinks.

_I’ll make you a deal._

**_No._ **

_You haven’t heard it yet._

**_It’s already a bad idea._ **

_No, it’s brilliant, and you won’t even need to help me._

**_Doubtful._ **

_I’m serious. All you have to do is let me take control and deny you knew anything._

Semi's silence is almost contemplative, and Shirabu grins.


	4. Fallout

_Semi-san–_

**_Enough! Shut up!_ **

_Would you let me exp–_

The harshness of the statement takes him aback, but he’s not going to be stopped.

_It was just a prank, seriously–_

**_Maybe_ ** **you _think so, but can you imagine how it makes me look like to them?!_**

_They probably knew it was me, calm down–_

**_Calm down?_** Semi’s voice grows eerily cold. **_Shirabu Kenjirou, you listen to me._**

_Not much else I can do._

**_Listen. To. Me._** He can feel Semi grinding his teeth, trying not to scream out loud – the walls are thin, and they don’t need the cops called on them. **_I don’t care_ what _you thought you were doing, but have a little tact, will you? This is_ not _your body, and you can’t just do whatever you please with it. To anyone else, I look like someone normal. One of them. One soul in one body. And even Kuroo and Yaku – they sometimes forget that you’re sharing my body now, or don’t you know that?_**

_I know._ His voice sounds petulant and sulky even to him, and he can feel Semi grow angrier.

**_If you know, then why can’t you be a little more considerate?! Whatever the heck you pull when you’re sharing my body, it reflects back on me – not_ ** **you, _but_ me _, because it’s not common knowledge that I’m sharing my body, do you understand?_**

_Yes._

**_Don’t say it if you don’t mean it!_ **

_What else do you want me to say?_ His voice sounds too loud to him, but he refuses to stop. _That I’m sorry? I’ve already said that, and you don’t believe me!_

**_Do you honestly blame me for not believing you?!_ **

_You said it was okay!_

**_I_ ** **never _explicitly said that, and I_ never _gave you permission to pull that sort of shit._**

_Look, I’ll apologise to Kuroo-san and Yaku-san tomorrow, okay? I didn’t even plan to go through with it–_

**_Liar._ **

_Lighten up, why don’t you._ Shirabu feels a cold fury towards him, as well as a hint of betrayal. _It’s not such a big deal._

**_Oh? Not such a big deal? Maybe you don’t care enough, but my reputation is the only thing that’s keeping both of us alive, and you’ve just ruined it!_ **

_You’re being dramatic._

**_Am I?_** Semi sounds furious, angrier than he has ever heard before. **_Do you know of any other people who went through with this surgery? No? More than half the people I know from the pilot study got sacked from their workplaces, and they can’t get new jobs because nobody trusts them or the person they’re sharing with. Kuroo was one of the only people who was kind enough to let me stay on because he and Yaku had faith that I would be able to keep the other person in line and not mess up their livelihood. And today – you almost ruined that completely._**

_I said I was sorry!_

**_You don’t sound very sorry._ **

_What do you want me to do?_ He sounds frustrated, even to himself. _There’s not much I can actually_ do _to prove I’m sorry. Let me apologise to Kuroo-san and Yaku-san tomorrow and I promise not to pull that sort of thing ever again._

Semi is awfully quiet after that, and even his body is still – rigid, unmoving, completely frozen. He almost wants to say something more, but he has a feeling that he should wait.

**_You’re right._ **

(It’s quiet, so quiet that he thinks he might have misheard.)

**_You can’t do anything to prove it, and I can’t be sure that you won’t do it again._ **

He knows what’s coming, he can almost see each word fall in slow motion. _Wait, Semi-san–_

**_I’m not letting you have control again. That’s final._ **

And even though there’s nothing physical about it, he can almost feel the restraints holding him back, binding him in place.

\-----

It feels like he’s been put in a soundproof cage.

_Semi-san–_

Any call he tries to make is ignored.

_Semi-san, hear me out–_

Any movement he tries to make is stopped.

(He only tried once, the first time. He’s too afraid to, after that.)

**_What are you doing?_ **

He had only been reaching for the alarm.

_The alarm…?_

**_Leave it alone. I’ll get it._ **

(Cold, cutting, final.)

_But–_

**_You’ve done enough._ **

(Backlash.)

Another instance–

_I said I was sorry, won’t you let me prove it?_

A twitch of a hand, clenching of a fist. They both stare at it, one with slight horror, one almost pointedly.

**_I said you’re not getting control. And you’re breaking my trust, even now._ **

_It wasn’t on purpose! What do I have to do to make you trust me again?_

No reply.

_Semi-san,_ please.

(Quiet, quiet, quiet.)

(He’s going crazy.)

(But he won’t stop asking, won’t stop apologising.)

_I’m sorry I did that, I promise I won’t do such a stupid thing ever again._

(Still no reply.)

But everyone has a breaking point.

_I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

**_Enough._ **

He doesn’t hear him the first time, but the second–

(It feels like a strike to the face.)

**_Stop apologising, and stop talking._** His tone is cold, dead.

Dismissive.

_Would you forgi–_

**_What did I say?_ **

He holds his tongue.

(But not well enough.)

**_What did you say?_ **

_Nothing._

**_That didn’t sound like nothing._ **

_Forget it._

**_If you have something to say, you say it out loud and_ ** **to my face.**

(His control snaps.)

_You’re the one who put yourself into the pilot study, and now you refuse to speak to me or give me control?_

**_You broke my trust._ **

_This wouldn’t have happened if you never signed up, don’t you think?_

**_What are you say–_ **

_I have as much right to this body as you do,_ Shirabu tells him. He thinks he feels fingers clench, nails digging, cutting into skin. _If you didn’t want that to happen before, then you should never have signed up to share your space._

**_I signed up,_** Semi begins, and Shirabu can hear his voice shake, **_I signed up because I thought it would be important to_ help _people, you know, what with our resources dwindling and our population levels still so high. I wanted to see if it was possible to compress the world like the government told us, to help those people who were dying – to give them a second chance._**

_Well,_ Shirabu says, _You’ve done it. What do you think?_

**_I thought that the dying person would be a little more grateful to have a second chance and not squander it by ruining their donor’s life!_ **

(It hits hard, and Shirabu knows it’s true.)

(But he’s never held his tongue before, he’s sick of staying silent, and he’s going to say it _now._ )

_You’re still being overdramatic._

**You’re _not convincing me that you actually want this second chance._**

_I was prepared for it to fail._

**_Were you?_ **

_I was_ dying. _It’s not like I had that many choices!_

**_But now that you’re here and alive, you’re not going to try and compromise with the person who’s sharing with you?_ **

_Stop putting it all on me – you didn’t stop me._

**_I tried! You wouldn’t listen!_ **

_Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough._

**_What are you– Are you seri– Ugh!_** He feels Semi’s frustration like a tangible thing – a dark, coiling entity. ** _For heck’s sake, are you_ listening _to yourself? You’re acting like a child._**

_Me? We’re only six months apart!_

**_And yet you refuse to see from my point of view._ **

_I did try_. _And I told you that it was just a prank and that I wouldn’t do it again!_

**_You expect me to trust your word on that?_ **

A frustrated groan, hands running through hair, pulling on the strands.

_Tell me then! How else do you want me to prove myself?_

**_Maybe by_ ** **listening _to me from now on?_**

_Didn’t you say that we’re supposed to_ compromise?

**_It’s obviously not working out, and since this is_ ** **my _body, I’m going to call the shots around here._**

_You are such an asshole, you know that?_

**_You’re incredibly rude, you know that?_ **

_Why does that even matter?!_

**_Because basic courtesy is a thing?_ **

More sounds of frustration, and he bites at his lip, clutching his head.

_How can you even say courtesy is a thing when we are literally_ living in the same body?

**_Doesn’t that call for even more courtesy and certain boundaries?_ **

(He can’t disagree with that.)

(But he’s not going to stop arguing.)

_You never implemented those._

**_I trusted that you would know basic respect, but I was obviously wrong._ **

_Oh– Wow– What a vote of confidence!_

A long, long beat of silence.

**_Misplaced confidence._ **

Shirabu gasps as control is torn from his grasp, and as he fumbles blindly, Semi stalks towards the kitchen, yanking a drawer open and pulling out a sachet of pills. Shirabu barely has the time to read the label on it before Semi has stuck the pill under his tongue, its tiny form dissolving.

The fingers that clench around the edge of the sink are certainly not by Semi’s control.

_Semi-san– Semi– What did you_ do–

He’s falling, spiralling, crashing down and away, a dark fog tearing at his consciousness. His vision is fading, he can barely hear, and there’s no feeling left anywhere in his body.

(It’s not his body.)

**_I’m making sure you can’t control my body without my permission again._**  Semi’s voice is grimly determined, even as he uncurls his fingers from around the sink, staring at his trembling hand.

The last thing he sees is that hand curling and uncurling into a fist, slowly, deliberately.

**_You’re too strong, and I don’t trust you._ **


	5. Dissociation

The isolation is eating him alive, and there’s only so much he can do when he’s a spectator in his own body.

…it’s not really his body.

With the pills blocking not only his ability to control Semi’s body, but also any communication he has with the sole other person he can talk to, there’s a limited amount of things he can do to occupy his time.

(So he says, though he spends hours sleeping – whatever the pill is, it makes him groggy and disoriented.)

The one thing that keeps recurring – that keeps haunting him – is the memory of what he had done to cause all this, the start of everything going wrong.

_It is after hours, the last customer finishing their payment and leaving. Semi waves to the little dog cradled in the man’s arms and sets about straightening the table._

I can do it, if you like.

**You sure?**

Yeah. It’s just a little bit.

**Okay.**

_Semi must be more tired than he lets on, judging by the heaviness of his body as he takes control. Shirabu stretches as much as he can before resuming the task of sorting out the papers and checking the money in the register._

**Just leave it for tomorrow.**

Are you sure? I could do it.

**I’m hungry, hurry up.**

Geez, okay.

_The money stored away, receipts kept aside, he opens the door to the back room to get the handheld vacuum cleaner to clean the floor._

_(He thinks he makes out Kuroo and Yaku’s voices from beyond the examination room door as he walks past, but pays them no mind.)_

_(Or maybe…)_

_He hides the thoughts from Semi as he continues vacuuming, setting the vacuum aside as he closes and locks the front of the store._

_The soft murmurs from inside the examination room have stopped, and if he strains to listen, Shirabu thinks he knows what he might hear._

_(Gentle jibes, lazily thrown insults. Transparent insinuations that spiral into a little more.)_

_(A little_ too _much, in his opinion.)_

_(They’re in public, after all.)_

_He switches the vacuum back on, sweeping around the area he had missed before, inches away from the examination room door._

_(An almost silent groan, hidden by the growl of the machine.)_

_(Now or never.)_

_He twists on the knob of the examination room door, pushing it inward just a shout goes up in his brain._

**What are you doing?!**

_Shirabu ignores him, focusing instead on the loud gasp that arose when the door was opened. He feigns ignorance and surprise as he peers round the door, taking in the slightly dishevelled figures of his co-workers._

_Maybe that could be passed off as nothing, but the fact that Yaku is sitting on the examination table and that Kuroo is leaning on the counter across him, arms crossed – the casualness is too forced to be natural._

_Shirabu turns the vacuum off, bobbing his head, as if he’s uncertain. “Ah. Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was in here. I was going to sweep inside?” He looks between them, as if nothing is amiss._

_Yaku recovers first, exhaling heavily. “I’ll do it, it’s fine. Can you check that we threw out the biohazard bags in the surgical room?”_

_“Sure.” He pushes the door a little wider, leans the vacuum against the wall. He can feel their stares on him, but doesn’t say anything, keeps his eyes down._

_As he makes to close the door, Kuroo calls to him. “Hey, Semi. I think we’re done for the night, so after the biohazard bags go out, you can go. Don’t wait for us.”_

_“Oh. Sure. Got it.”_

_“It’s been a long day, go home and rest,” Yaku agrees, eyes flicking between them._

_“Okay. Goodnight then.” Shirabu dips his head and closes the door softly, turning away from the scene._

It didn’t seem so bad then, but the longer he thinks about it, the more details he recalls.

A tiny tugging at the back of his mind when he opened the door.

The shocked, tense horror echoing from the corner of his mind while he made his apologies and excuses to their co-workers.

The terror bleeding over and infecting him after the door was closed and he had walked away.

The hushed exclamations, full of disbelief at first, and as he remained apathetic, fanned into fury.

Shirabu looks out through his foggy screen, at the slightest glow of light, dully registering the familiar desk, the glare of the computer screen, the frames on the wall of the waiting room.

He reaches out until he reaches the barrier separating them, pressing against it, smiling to himself as it bends around the pressure.

It’s just a little indentation. Hardly enough to budge the barrier. Almost like poking it, with a finger.

**_What did you think you were doing?_ **

He had shrugged then, and he shrugs now, though there is no physical sensation to go with it.

_You would never say anything about how annoying their PDA is, so I did something._

**_I don’t want to lose my job._** A pause, slow realisation, creeping dread. ** _Shirabu, you could have made me lose my job!_**

He turns, tilts his head back until it hits the barrier; it curls around him, bending with him, but he never passes through.

Odd, how it feels like he has a body, though he is intangible, trapped, locked in place in his mind.

But the fear still lingers, from that memory half-lived, and it continues playing, like a cinema reel.

(He doesn’t like this part.)

_You’re being dramatic._

A shot of fresh fear makes his heart sink, though he knows that it’s not his emotion.

**_Did you see Kuroo’s face? Shit, shit, shit._ **

_It’s fine._

**_No, it’s not._ **

(Semi sounds so scared.)

**_I’ve never seen him so impassive but so angry._ **

_It’ll be fine, geez. He probably thinks it was an accident._

**_How do you know? Are you sure?_ **

(Debilitating terror, undiluted panic.)

**_Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god._ **

He takes several deep breaths, mimicking the memory, sliding into the motions of the past.

(Not to calm himself, but for his friend.)

_Stop worrying._

**_What if they hate me, what if Kuroo sacks me– Oh my god, I have nowhere to go, no second plans–_ **

_Calm down. I’ll get us home, okay?_

**_How can I calm down? How are you so calm?_ **

(Hysterical.)

_It’s just a prank. And they think it’s an accident, it’s fine._

**_No, no, no, it’s not fine…_ **

Shirabu slaps himself a little, shaking the memory out and shuddering.

(Is it counted as slapping? The memory of the physical pain is so fragile – so faint and insubstantial. It’s not enough.)

(It’s not enough.)

He doesn’t really want to think about what came next, when they were finally home and Semi had attained some semblance of calmness.

(He’s relived the fight so many times, it makes him sick.)

Looking out through the impermeable barrier, he wonders, if perhaps he should have made better choices.

\-----

(Regret always comes too little, too late.)

(What would he have changed, if he had a second chance?)

(What could he…have…done…?)

\-----

There’s one thing they never tell you about isolation. They never tell you how much you’re forced to remember, how much you spin thoughts round and round and round, until they’re warped and out of shape.

(They never tell you how much you can misremember things, losing and adding detail to a faded polaroid.)

(Twin voices, hard and heavy and filled with disapproval.)

( _‘I expected better. You have failed.’_ )

( ** _‘I don’t trust you. You’re too strong.’_** )

(Blending, bending, slotting together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.)

( _‘You’re **so s** t **u** p **id.’**_ )

They never tell you exactly how much you can forget.

(And yet, there is still so much you remember.)

\-----

He can’t remember much of anything, these days. Everything is happening through a filter, and though he sleeps forever, he is never rested. He is itchy and unfulfilled, but he can’t leave.

He can’t…leave?

Leave where?

He wonders sometimes, about much too philosophical things. About how inhabiting a body is weird, because you see out of your own two eyes, move limbs with and without conscious thought, watch things happen yet make things happen, and _how does it all come together?_

He doesn’t know.

\-----

It comes to him one day, another philosophical thought.

_Where am I?_

_Do I have a body?_

_Why have I been staying still for so long, not doing anything?_

He’s so confused.

He has no answers.

So he continues staring at his foggy wall, the tiniest light it allows, the only other thing he knows besides the silence, until he falls asleep.

\-----

A tiny stirring, one day, out of the blue.

_Who am I?_

\-----

He rouses a little at the sound of voices, surprised to hear something. It has been a while since he heard someone else’s voice, since he heard something other than the droning of his own thoughts.

(The sounds are far away, a little muffled, but he can hear them.)

He strains forward, straining to fill an ache he didn’t know he had.

_“Hey, you okay?_

_A tired chuckle. “Slight migraine. Don’t worry about it.”_

He puts his imaginary hand up against the barrier, pleasantly surprised when it bends beneath his palm. He presses closer, eagerly listening.

_“You’ve been having migraines for weeks. Shouldn’t you go see a doctor?”_

_“I’m fine, really.”_

He feels like he should know this voice. He thinks he does. The person – man? Boy? – sounds so drained.

He hears nothing for several moments, but squinting through the barrier, he thinks he makes out a person with short, sandy-coloured hair frowning at him. He frowns in return. Why would a stranger be frowning at him?

_“Semi, if you’re not better by Friday, I’m dragging your ass to the doctor.”_

Semi. He thinks he knows who that is. Is it him?

No, no. It isn’t. But Semi is someone very close to him, he thinks.

_“Yaku, I’m fine. Really. It’s just the medicine.”_

_“Medicine’s supposed to make you_ better, _not worse.”_

He winces, pulling away from the barrier.

He doesn’t like medicine. He knows it’s bad, but he can’t fathom why.

He scoots back into his dark corner and doesn’t think about _medicine_ , but cradles the little gem of a name that he gleaned.

\-----

_“Hey. Are you sure you’re okay?”_

He perks up. He knows that voice. It’s ‘Yaku’. He shuffles towards the barrier and leans into it, letting it hold his weight as he listens.

_A sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired lately.”_

_A soft clicking. “Have you been sleeping well? Eating properly?”_

_“Of course. I’m a functioning adult.”_

He laughs a little to himself. Semi isn’t a functioning adult, though he tries. He’d love to tell him that, just to see what would happen, but the barrier is impermeable.

(How does he know that? That Semi tries and fails to be a functioning adult?)

_“…actually, I’ve been having trouble sleeping.”_

_“Do you know why?”_

He hears nothing for a bit, but the image of Yaku shifts from side to side, so Semi must be shaking his head. _“I just can’t fall asleep.”_

_“Chamomile tea. Warm baths. Worse come to worst, sleeping pills,” Yaku suggests._

_“I’m not sure I’m allowed sleeping pills. It might mess with the other medicine I’m taking.”_

_“Ah. You should ask your doctor about that, then.”_

_“Yeah, I will.”_

He snorts and shifts off the barrier. Semi isn’t going to do it. After the few times that he managed to listen and learn more about him, he knows that Semi wouldn’t.

He doesn’t know _why_ , though.

\-----

He feels jovial when he wakes up one day, and doesn’t know why. But he sprawls out next to the barrier anyway, hoping to hear something interesting.

He doesn’t expect to hear something so chilling.

“Shirabu?”

(He knows that name.)

(He thinks it’s...him.)

He presses a hand against the barrier, surprised when it parts. It’s thick, like Jell-O, and reforms around his wrist. How odd, he muses.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks up, through Semi's eyes. There’s no one there, just his empty bedroom.

_Semi-san?_

“Shirabu, what are you doing, standing there?” He feels the frown Semi makes. “I thought you were in my head.”

 _I am._ Shirabu realises it’s true. _I am in your head._

“I see…you. How are you standing there?” Semi waves in the general direction of the edge of his bed, but Shirabu sees nothing.

_Semi-san? My body is dead?_

(The words come out before he can think them over, but he thinks they’re true.)

(Bright lights, cloying antiseptic, a scratchy gown on his skin.)

(An overwhelmingly sweet smell, and he fades out.)

“But you’re there,” Semi insists. “I could touch you, if I wanted.” He stretches forward, and Shirabu watches hopelessly as he catches nothing but air, nearly falling off the bed.

_I’m…not._

He sounds so small, even to himself.

Semi shakes his head, squints at the same spot. “Huh. No one’s there.”

_I told you that._

But it’s like Semi can’t hear him anymore. He continues sitting on the edge of the bed and muttering to himself, the words nonsensical.

Shirabu pulls his hand out from the barrier, hugging it to himself.

He doesn’t want to think about it.

\-----

(But he can’t avoid it.)

Every other day now, he notices things.

The barrier is thinner on some days, more permeable. And he hears things, things that make him scared and worried and more than a little concerned.

By day, the fog of lethargy that hangs over Semi, that makes his actions slow and confused. The way he keeps rubbing his temples, the base of his neck, sometimes the spot between his eyebrows. The little complaints he grumbles to himself, the reassurances to the customers and his co-workers that _It’s just a small migraine, don’t worry about me._

It can’t be small, if it continuously bothers him. Shirabu wonders when it all started, because Semi never had headaches back in high school.

(High school. They used to go to high school together.)

(Another piece of the puzzle, but he’s missing almost the entire set.)

But night time is when his true worry begins to set in – behind closed doors, in private, where the only witness to the madness is him.

Nausea, so strong that he can feel it behind the barrier. So powerful that it makes him want to retch himself. Those days where the nausea is too overwhelming, Semi skips meals, sipping at water, maybe an energy drink to keep his strength up. Maybe a packet of biscuits, followed by the dreaded pills, and then Shirabu’s vision fades out, the barrier reinforced.

But sometimes in the night, he wakes, and the barrier is thinner. Leaning against it, he can feel the chills that shake Semi even under three thick blankets and long-sleeved pyjamas, the weight of the material tucked around him, a protective shield against the world.

The worst of it, he feels, is the nightmares.

He has been shocked awake in the middle of the night too many times, a sitting duck as the phantoms torment Semi. He can feel terror and panic leaking in through the barrier – made thinner by his distress.

It makes him feel tense and anxious as well, and long after Semi has fallen asleep, he remains awake, worrying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now~  
> I have the next few chapters written, but I'll be posting one per week from now on until this is completely done ^^


	6. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to upload this yesterday oops  
> Anyway, here, have more pain >:3

Things only get worse.

The lack of sleep makes Semi tired at work, slightly more irritable than usual. He plays it cool for the customers, but Shirabu can feel the mounting emotion, and it will only be so long before the dam breaks.

(But it seems that he doesn’t need to worry.)

(He needs to _panic._ )

Back at home, Semi spends hours muttering and pacing and drawing on blank sheets of paper, and nothing Shirabu sees reassures him.

A list of fears, of people who might be angry at him. Of those who might come after him, like an assassin in the night.

A list of things he has to do to keep out of the spotlight, to not draw attention to himself. To fade away, so that people would stop asking what’s wrong.

What’s worse is the constant one-sided conversations with someone who’s not there.

“That would be a bad idea. No. Come on, you’re the smart one, give me a good idea.”

_Semi-san, stop._

“How exactly am I supposed to do a better job at work? I’m already doing what I can.”

_Semi. Please._

“Geez, you’re _so_ helpful.”

_…stop…_

He hates it. He hates how Semi is continually seeing his spectre and taking advice from the illusions of his battered mind, how he is spiralling deeper and deeper into something out of his control.

He hates how he is so well-blocked by the medicine that he cannot reach out and shake awareness back into his friend. Even if he could, Semi wouldn’t believe it was him.

All Shirabu can do is pretend that none of it is happening, but he has never been too good at lying to himself.

\-----

(Even the strongest of spider silk can snap.)

Shirabu hears the alarm clearly one morning, and it shocks him to full awareness. He hasn’t heard anything so clearly since before…

(Before they argued, and he got blocked out.)

But why now?

The alarm keeps ringing, but Semi doesn’t stir. Shirabu reaches out tentatively, fumbling towards where he knows the barrier is, trying to touch it.

It parts under his fingers like water, a veil too easily broken. He shrinks back at the sensation, too afraid to move beyond it.

He knows better than to try. He doesn’t want to be shut out like that again.

(Isn’t he still bound behind the barrier? If he never moves forward?)

(But the rejection, that isolation, that anxiety and fear–)

(How much of that fear is really his?)

The alarm is still too loud, and he creeps towards the barrier again, to try and sneakily shut it off before Semi wakes.

Slipping control on is like putting on a favourite loose garment – comfortable, easy, _familiar._ But it is also unbelievably heavy, and while opening his eyes is simple, he struggles to lift his arm, the effort making him shake.

Is this how Semi has been feeling? He feels _exhausted_ , and he has barely budged.

His fingers catch on the edge of the table and slip off, crashing into the side of the bed. Shirabu freezes, dread shooting through his veins, but Semi does not wake.

He tries again, painstakingly lifting his arm, carefully pressing on the screen to turn the alarm off.

His arm falls back against the bed, a dead weight, and he doesn’t have the energy to move it further. He feels like he’s sweating buckets, shaking with the effort taken to do that one, simple action.

(It was like trying to wind a spring tighter than it would go, trying to force something to happen when it clearly could not take any more pressure.)

He almost wants to cry at the effort it took.

There is confused mumbling that isn’t his, and he freezes. Turns, runs, _dives_ back behind the safety of the barrier, uncaring about how it splinters.

Shirabu shivers in his corner, waiting, anticipating the rebuke.

( **_‘How dare you.’_ ** )

( **_‘Who gave you the right?’_ ** )

( **_‘What are you doing?’_ ** )

It does not come.

**_Ugh_** _._

He holds his metaphorical breath as Semi turns onto his stomach, groaning. **_Ow. Ugh. I don’t want to go to work._ **

Shirabu almost laughs. That whine sounds familiar.

There’s a moment of quiet breathing, then Semi pushes himself upright.

He almost falls off the bed, the vertigo so strong that Shirabu is alarmed.

(He says nothing.)

Semi holds still for a minute, the nausea slowly dying off. He swings his legs off the bed and stands, but one step forward makes him collapse back onto the bed – his head is spinning too much.

(Shirabu almost says something, but he holds himself back.)

(He’s not ready to be blocked out just yet.)

(He needs to stay, to watch.)

He observes.

He watches as the world wobbles in the dim light, feels the detachment and the spinning of the world as Semi slowly rises to his feet. He holds his breath as Semi stumbles towards a wall, a hand upon it for balance, fingers dragging across the slightly uneven surface as he moves towards the bathroom.

A sudden weakness in his knees, and he gasps as they go down.

At the very least, Semi knows how to fall.

He catches himself on his forearm, rolling onto his shoulder, tipping onto his back. It hurts, a dull ache instead of a sharp pain, and while it is not his pain, Shirabu winces, grateful that it is not worse.

“Who’s there?”

Shirabu holds his breath, covers his mouth, shrinks deeper into his corner.

(Was he too loud?)

“Show yourself.”

(He’s been noticed.)

As shaky as he is, Semi pushes himself to hands and knees, rolling into a sitting position, squinting into the darkness.

“I’ll call the police if you don’t reveal yourself.”

He’s worried, too worried, and he knows that no one is there. It was _him_ that Semi heard.

_Semi-san?_

“Shirabu?” A flick of eyes over the darkness, but nothing is there. No one is there. “Where are you, brat?”

_I’m here. In your head._

(His voice is so small, he wonders if he can be heard at all.)

“Stop talking rubbish and show yourself.”

_I’m not lying._

“Can you not be annoying for _once_ , damnit!” Semi punches the floor in frustration, cursing at the pain shooting through his knuckles. Shirabu shrinks back, though he wants nothing more than to fix the problem.

_I’m not. I’m really not._

_Please believe me._

Semi snorts. “Now I know it’s not you. Shirabu never grovels.”

(Is he grovelling?)

(God, he’s pathetic.)

Semi groans and pushes to his feet. Leans against the wall as the dizziness threatens to overwhelm him. Shirabu can feel his limbs going numb, can see the colourful fireworks blooming behind closed lids.

_Semi-san, don’t faint. Sit down._

“Stop telling me what to do.”

But he remains still, breathing heavily, wiggling his fingers, as if it would help. All the while, Shirabu feels him getting more and more light-headed, an uncomfortable sensation in the back of his throat, the ever-increasing numbness in his fingers.

_Please. Please sit down. You’re going to faint._

“Don’t… Tell… Me… What… To do.” Semi slides down the wall, vision flickering, and hits the floor with a heavy _thump_. Shirabu feels the hard impact, wincing at the shock through his tailbone, but Semi does not stir.

_Semi-san? Semi?_

(A black hole in the place where the other’s consciousness usually is.)

(Has he really fainted?)

_Eita?_

(Quiet, quiet, quiet.)

(No reply, though he expected a roaring anger at the use of his name.)

(He is alone.)

Shirabu steps forward carefully, wiggling feeling back into his fingers, pulling his knees up so he can place his head between them.

It is so difficult to move, and the nausea is overwhelming, and maybe he should lie down.

(He does.)

The wood floor is cool beneath his cheek, and he can feel the bile receding, his head becoming just a tad clearer.

(When did Semi last eat? Drink?)

(Shirabu knows the mechanics of fainting all too well, and it scares him to think that Semi is so weak.)

He exhales slowly, rolling over, supporting himself onto his knees, pushing up with his forearms.

Another deep exhale. A slow, slow inhale.

He begins the crawl forward.

The bed is so close, yet too far, but it is an ordeal he pushes numb limbs through, convincing himself to take _Just… One… More… Step._

And suddenly, he is there.

The sheets are cool on his palm, and he leans against the mattress for a moment, resting his aching head.

(He is so tired.)

(But he can’t give up now.)

Fingers hook onto the edge of the mattress, pulling himself up. He seats himself carefully, fingers gripping the springy material too tightly, biting his lip and exhaling slowly as the nausea threatens to overwhelm him.

Shirabu feels his eyes cross, his elbows tremble. He tries to shake his head to clear the feeling, but it’s slow, unsteady, and his hearing is fading. He bites his lip, but the pain is dull and doesn’t help.

A small spark of realisation, his thoughts catching up with what his eyes had seen.

His eyes flick back to the side table, focusing on the phone and its blinking white light.

Bracing himself on one arm, he reaches towards it. The surface is cool and hard and _real_ , and he grips on to it even as he lowers his body onto the bed – arms bending, knees lifting, rolling onto his side and holding still.

(Just a moment, just a moment.)

(He only needs a moment.)

He opens his eyes, unlocks the phone, and opens Semi’s contact list. Scrolls through it. Stops on a name, breath catching.

_I know who this is._

How had he never remembered this person before?

(It’s not too late now.)

(He can trust this person, he knows it.)

He raises a finger, shakily presses a button. Then another, and watches the too-bright screen as the ringtone drones at him.

_Please, please pick up._

A click, a voice.

_“Hello?”_

(His friend sounds so sleepy.)

(He’s missed him.)

“Taichi?”

_“Semi-san? Why are you calling me at_ _–_ _Ugh, it_ _’_ _s five_ _–_ _This ungodly hour?”_

He wants to laugh, he wants to cry.

Of course. He couldn’t have known.

“It’s Kenjirou, not Semi-san.”

_“What?”_

A rustle of sheets, and he smiles a little, phone slipping a little in his grip. He quickly rights it.

_“Are you lying to me? It’s not funny.”_

“Why would I lie to you, you asshat?” He wants to roll his eyes, but he’s so tired. “Just ask something only I would know to confirm it.”

_“The time you cried because you had to pass on your position.”_

“The setter position or the captain position?”

A snort from over the line. _“Good enough.”_

“How is that ‘good enough’?” He’s too confused.

_“Semi-san would have said ‘Shirabu never cries’.”_

That makes him laugh. “True.”

The laugh dies too quickly – his head is too light. He almost misses what Kawanishi says. “What?”

_“I said, why didn’t you call earlier?”_

(Truth or lie, truth or lie?)

(His head is too light for lies.)

“I kind of forgot to.”

(He leaves it hanging, open-ended.)

(Kawanishi doesn’t need to know that he forgot him.)

The phone slips again, its corner sinking into the pillow.

He is so tired.

_“–jirou? Oi, are you listening to me?”_

He wants to sleep forever.

“Taichi, I need help.”

(His voice is so soft, softer than before.)

(Did it break, at the end?)

He thinks he hears a shocked intake of breath.

_“What do you need?”_

Kawanishi sounds so calm.

(He’s missed him, so much.)

(He can always rely on Kawanishi.)

“Do you know where Semi-san lives?”

_“No.”_

Shirabu’s heart falls.

_“Turn on the location and tracking on his phone, and I’ll get to you.”_

“You’re my saviour,” he tells him, and he’s not being sarcastic.

_“Yeah, yeah. How fast do I need to be?”_

“As fast as you can.” His hands are so tired, and he rests them against the bed. “I think Semi-san is dying.”

A curse, a loud thump, and he almost smiles.

(He’s so tired.)

_“I can’t be there that fast, but can you unlock the front door so I won’t have to bring security down on me?”_

(He has to stay awake, just a bit longer.)

“Of course.”

_“Stay alive, okay?”_ He hears the undertone of panic in his best friend’s voice. _“I didn’t lose you just to find you and lose you again.”_

“Sap.”

_“Shut up. Turn on the location and tracking, alright? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”_

“Okay.”

_“I’m serious. Don’t die.”_

“I’ll try.”

_“Good. See you soon.”_

The line dies, and he watches the screen for a moment, a soft sigh escaping.

He has work to do.

He exits the contacts list and goes to settings, finding and switching on the location. Locking the phone, he slowly sits upright, gripping the bed and breathing slowly, until he can somewhat see.

Shirabu slides the phone into the waistband of his shorts, nestled against the small of his back. He prays that it won’t slip out, as he stands and begins the long trek to the door. He can’t afford to bend and pick it up if it falls.

He follows the wall to the bedroom door, stopping and leaning against it too many times, trying to catch his breath. He readjusts the phone’s position to ensure its safety, but his biggest trial is still to come.

He places shaky fingers on the round doorknob, gripping it as tightly as he can and twisting.

It shifts only a little, the spring quickly falling back into place as he meets resistance, and he tightens his grip on its metal surface, grimacing.

Twist. Spring back. Twist. Spring back. It’s becoming a mantra that he can’t escape, and his fingers are losing their grip, their strength.

He wipes his hand on his shorts, blowing on it to dry any dampness, and grips the knob as tightly as he can.

Twist, yank.

_Click._

His fingers slip a little at the vibration, at the disengagement. He realises something.

_The lock._ That’s _the resistance._

The door shifts, the knob slides out of his grip.

The wood falls back.

Shirabu wants to scream.

He wipes his hand again, palm cupping the knob snugly, fingers digging into the metal surface.

Twist.

He hears the _clack_ as the latch unwinds fully, and pulls it towards him as well as he can.

(He’s shaking, trembling.)

The door opens, just a crack.

The knob slides out of his limp hand, the latch popping back out with a dull _thud._ The latch _clicks_ where it falls back against the door frame, but it’s done.

It’s open.

Shirabu grasps the doorknob again with a barely concealed sob, fingers digging into the metal in hope of keeping a handle on his sanity.

A deep exhale, a hand against the wall.

The door pulled back, pushed against the opposite wall.

He tries to recall the layout of the apartment, and his knees almost buckle at the thought of walking so far.

Shirabu rests his head against the wall, gritting his teeth, inhaling deeply, shakily. His curled fingers tremble against the wall, but the rough surface provides an edge of pain, sharpening his focus. Tuning his thoughts, directing them wholly to the task he needs to complete.

He pushes off, and starts walking.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Forward and forward and forward, only stopping when his back screams with pain, when his head grows so light he thinks he might drift away.

He’s almost there. Two-thirds more to go.

Forward. One more step. Yet another. He pauses, with a thought. Shakes it off, continues.

One-third more.

His mind drifts, focusing on the cool floor, the tiny bumps in the plaster of the wall, the _squeak_ of his bare feet against waxed wooden floors.

His toes curl around an edge, teetering off into space.

He looks up.

The door is in front of him. Two steps away.

He made it.

Shirabu lowers himself carefully, edging down, setting both feet firmly in the _genkan._ Reaches forward, fingers shaky on the flat surface of the lock, twisting hard. It turns almost easily under the pressure, and he grabs the chain, sliding it out quickly, before he loses his strength.

He leans against the door, uncaring about the _thump_ his body makes as it hits it. He’s almost there, almost there.

Now for the last part.

He shuffles away, dragging his feet, stepping just out of the _genkan_ and sliding down onto the floor. Something digs into his back, and he reaches behind him, pulls the phone out of his shorts.

He can’t believe it survived the entire walk.

He smiles a little, lets a chuckle slip out.

He is so tired.

He puts a palm on the ground, slowly lowering himself, arranging the phone next to his head.

His head feels better now.

He breathes slowly, relishing in the coolness, and drifts.

\-----

A half-submerged thought, a voice from far away.

_“Semi-san?”_

A light shaking of his shoulder – is it really his shoulder? – and he can feel his head flopping back and forth.

_“Hey. Hey. Can you hear me?”_

His eyelids are too heavy, he can’t open his eyes.

(He’s trying, but they’re glued shut.)

_“Hello? I need the ambulance, my location is…”_

The person sounds really familiar.

They look familiar – tall, with large hands, but he can’t see their face.

(He can’t look directly at them, and everything is washed out.)

(Is he dreaming?)

_“Semi-san. Semi-san.”_ A pause. _“Kenjirou?”_

He knows that name. Both names.

He knows he should wake up, but he can’t.

He is jolted, and his dream-self walks away.

It is too bright, and he can’t open his eyes.

What was he looking at, before?


	7. Waking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, whoops, forgot to post this again.

He shifts, wincing at the ache in his back. He wants to turn over, but something tugs at his arm, and he peels his eyes open just a little to squint at it.

Is that…a tube?

He wiggles his fingers, wincing when he feels something move in the crease of his arm. Another blink, a deep breath, and his head is slightly clearer.

Ah. An IV in his arm.

He turns his body towards the arm with the IV, sighing when the pressure eases off his back. Much better.

“Semi-san?”

He turns his head to look at the person, and feels his mouth lift at the corners. “Taichi.”

Kawanishi sets a cup down on the table, coming over to sit by him. “Kenjirou?”

Shirabu is amused, now. “How’d you know?”

“Semi-san would be more confused to see me.”

He nods with a small smile, shifting until he’s more comfortable on the pillows. Realises. “I can move again.”

“Ah, the drug must be mostly flushed out, then.” Kawanishi stands, peers at the meniscus in the IV bag. He nods to himself and reaches behind the bed.

Shirabu watches him, vaguely understanding. “How long have I– We, been out?”

“A couple of hours.” His friend sits down after grabbing his cup. “The A&E people almost wouldn’t let me in.”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Typical. Why are you here then?”

“I flirted my way in,” Kawanishi deadpans.

“Rubbish.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Hey, I’m not even in my own body, you can’t say that–”

A stirring.

He freezes.

Kawanishi looks at him, a furrow in his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I wasn’t here, okay?” It’s all he can manage, a desperate whisper, and then he drops control, runs for cover.

He can feel their body slacken, rolling back onto their back, eyelids sliding shut. And in the far corner of their shared consciousness, a gradual awakening.

He keeps still, but he is alert, panicked, watching.

Another shifting, stretching, a wince and a soft curse. Eyes open, and he sees the IV again, gaze focused on it. He can feel Semi’s confusion as he frowns at the IV, as he breathes in the antiseptic of the hospital. And finally, like he can feel another set of eyes on him, their gaze lifts, looking into Kawanishi’s impassive face.

“Taichi?”

“Hello, Semi-san.”

“What are you doing here? What am _I_ doing here?” Semi attempts to sit up, cursing when the action pulls at the IV. He shuffles until he’s upright, straightening his arm and facing his old teammate. “What time is it?”

Kawanishi pulls out his phone. “About one o’clock.”

Semi swears, and makes to get up. “I’m late for work.”

A hand on his shoulder pushes him back. “I told your co-worker that you were here when he called.”

“What?”

Kawanishi jerks his head towards a phone on the side table. Shirabu recognises it as Semi’s phone, and so does Semi, because he makes a reach for it.

Kawanishi holds him back again. “No. I’ll get the doctor, and they can talk it out with you. Yaku-san said that it’s fine, and they’ll come after work.”

“You spoke to Yaku? Ugh, no, it’s fine, they don’t need to come, I’ll just get out of here, I’m perfectly alright–”

“Semi-san.”

A different voice, and they turn to look, a doctor standing at the door. “I’m afraid you are not ‘perfectly alright’, and I would like to discuss something with you.”

Kawanishi pipes up before Semi can reply. “Can I stay?”

“You are the one who brought them here, yes?”

Kawanishi nods. “I’d like to know, if I’m allowed to. I’m not a relative, but Kenjirou doesn’t have anyone left.”

Shirabu feels a burst of warmth inside him, a bittersweet ache.

“How do you know about Shirabu?” Semi asks.

(He freezes, dread seizing him.)

Kawanishi seems to realise this as well. How he had outed him, though he asked him not to.

(Shirabu doesn’t really blame him, but he is terrified.)

(Consequences, consequences.)

(What is going to happen?)

“What’s your name, son?”

The blond turns away, and Shirabu is left to face the mass of suspicion stirring within their shared consciousness alone. He can just make out the conversation in the background, but it is faint, and his vision is narrow, narrow, narrow–

**_What did you do_ ** **now?**

He does not answer. He can’t, he’s too afraid.

**_Answer me._ ** **What did you do?**

_Nothing bad._ His voice is a whisper, a feather lifted by the breeze. _I got us to hospital._

**_I’m_ ** **fine. _I don’t need a hospital, you interfering–_**

“Semi-san, I know this is a bit soon, but we need to discuss your health, particularly your drug intake.”

Their attention is turned back outwards, but not without a hissed **_We’ll talk later_. ** It relieves Shirabu, but he is still full of dread for what is to come.

“There’s nothing wrong with me or my drug intake,” Semi insists.

“On the contrary, all the blood and urine tests we’ve done have said otherwise. You seem to be slightly malnourished and severely dehydrated. In addition, the drug you are taking isn’t meant to be taken long term, and it is likely to be responsible for some of the side effects you may be having.”

Semi is silent.

The doctor continues, finger moving across a clipboard. “May I know if you’ve been having insomnia, chills, increased headaches, and perhaps some hallucinations?”

It takes an age for Semi to reply. “Just a little.”

(Shirabu wants to cry out, to say it’s not true, but the threat still hangs over him. He curls up more tightly, wishing he could say something.)

“Semi-san, it is imperative that you tell us the truth, that we might be able to help you. Was Shirabu-san giving you too much trouble, that you decided to block him out and not tell your therapist about it?”

  _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

**_Shut up_**.

Shirabu bites his words back, unaware he was saying them.

“It wasn’t a big issue. We just had a bit of a disagreement.”

Kawanishi raises his eyebrows, and the doctor frowns. “I tend to disagree. A disagreement would not have caused your abuse of the drug to this scale. If this arrangement is truly bothering you so badly, we could arrange for other counter-measures to be taken instead.”

“What are my options?”

(He is bodiless, but the phantom stab of pain where he bites down on his hand to keep from screaming feels so real.)

_(Don’t do it.)_

_(Please, don’t do it.)_

“A proper talk with your therapist would be required, but you can take safer drugs to ensure that Shirabu-san does not endanger your health. The more permanent option would be to remove him completely.”

(He thinks Kawanishi gasps. He’s not sure.)

“Does removal involve surgery again?”

“Yes. But as I said, you must have a session with your therapist before that, and they will assess you and recommend the best course of action.”

Semi is disgruntled, he can feel it. But all he says is, “Thank you. I will make an appointment with Mizoguchi-san at the earliest possible time.”

“Excellent.”

“When can I be discharged?” Semi asks, eying the IV line. The doctor pauses flipping through his clipboard.

“Possibly tonight. I recommend staying until the IV has rectified your dehydrated state. In addition, it would be best to have that drug completely removed from your system. I would also warn you not to take it again, because the effects would be more dire this time.”

Semi grumbles a little, fingers on his needle-free hand twitching. The doctor frowns. “Semi-san, do you have any disagreements you would like to raise with the treatment?”

“No. I just don’t like IVs very much.” His eyes flick towards the tube again, pointedly not looking at how the needle slides under and into his skin.

The doctor clears his throat. “Very well. If that is all for the moment, I will take my leave. The call button is on your bed frame, should you require any assistance or have any other questions.”

Semi tries to bow a little, and the doctor returns it as he turns away.

The door clicks shut. Kawanishi moves towards the chair, sitting heavily.

Semi leans back, pondering, but Shirabu is too afraid to speak up.

“Semi-san.”

Their attention is turned towards Kawanishi, and Shirabu feels a shock – Semi’s shock – at the desperation on his face.

“Please. Please don’t remove Kenjirou. I know he’s a pain, but he’s not entirely unreasonable, and– And–” The blond’s hands twist together, he bites on his lip. “I don’t want him to die again.”

Semi sighs, and he feels a stirring in his chest – uncertainty? “That’s not your choice to make. I’ll decide.”

“Would you talk to him first, at least?” Kawanishi presses. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but Kenjirou never asks for help, if he can help it. And that he called me–”

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask just that. What happened, and why am I in hospital?”

Kawanishi shakes his head. “All I know is that I got a call this morning, and Kenjirou said he thought you were dying. I asked him to unlock the door, but I forgot to ask which floor you were on. By the time I got there, you were lying on the floor, and I thought you were already dead.”

He can feel the tightness of his hand, the pressure where Semi is clenching it. “He called you?”

“Yes.”

Semi is silent for a long, long moment. It makes him anxious. Too anxious. “Thank you. Could you leave us, for a while? I need to talk to Shirabu.”

Kawanishi hesitates a little too long, and Semi sighs, hand unclenching, coming up to run over his face. “I’ll take what you said to mind, okay? You’re right; Shirabu never asks for help. I’ll try not to be too hard on him.”

The blond doesn’t look very convinced, though he nods slowly. “I’ll come back later, maybe? Do you want anything from the cafeteria?”

Semi tries for a smile. “Maybe a small bun. Your choice.”

A last nod, and the blond leaves. They are alone, with only the sound of his panicked breaths and the whir of the air conditioner above them.

(He is so, so scared.)

(What’s going to happen?)

(He almost died once, he’s not ready to die again–)

**_Shirabu._ **

_Yes?_

(His voice cracks, and he is so ashamed, but still so terrified, and it’s all he can do to hold back a panicked sob.)

(There is a ball of tightness in his chest, and it’s taking everything he has to clamp down on it, to make sure it doesn’t spill out.)

**_Shut up and stop panicking for a moment, will you?_ **

(If he had a real hand, he’d have bitten through the fleshy part of it already.)

_I’m trying._

_(I’m trying, I’m trying, oh god, you don’t know how hard I’m trying–)_

An empty silence, hanging like the promise of a death blow. He can’t breathe.

(He watches Semi’s actions from afar, too tightly-strung. He watches him trace circles on the blanket, finger the edge of the tape holding the needle in his arm. He watches him eye the room, taking in its details, feels the forcefully slow breaths Semi takes.)

(Shirabu feels disconnected from it all, tense as he waits for the accusations to fall.)

(He drifts and snaps back to awareness. Drifts and snaps back.)

(It’s a waiting game, but he can’t hold on, can’t keep track of the ongoings.)

(He’s losing touch.)

Finally, a whisper. A sigh.

(He snaps back.)

**_Is what Taichi said true?_ **

_Yes._

(It’s so faint, he can barely hear himself.)

**_Is what the doctor said true?_ **

_I couldn’t tell you that._ He feels like he is balancing on the edge of a precipice, toeing the line carefully, carefully. One misstep could make him fall. Could cut him down. _I only know the hallucinations happened._

A pondering silence, fingers rubbing at the material of the sheets. **_What do you remember?_**

(What _does_ he remember?)

(Too little, so little.)

_We fought. You blocked me out._

**_Anything else?_ **

(The words are heavy, filled with disapproval, edged with a demand – a demand to know the incriminating truth, a truth that will serve him his 'rightful' punishment.)

(He feels like a child again, staring down his extended arm, palm up, an offering for the cane raised to strike.)

(His breaths are shaky, small and tight.)

_(Don’t hurt me.)_

_Not much. Sometimes I could see you at work. Sometimes cooking, reading, doing chores. But I was mostly asleep._

**_Asleep?_ **

(It sounds accusatory.)

_I couldn’t hear or see anything._ His voice breaks again, and he struggles to hold back a sob.

(He doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want to recall those days.)

(Staring into nothing. Trying to fill the emptiness. Reaching out, hitting a wall. Shrinking back from its coldness.)

(It was cold. So, so cold.)

(So lonely.)

_(Don’t hurt me.)_

(He forces an image to the front of his mind – a bright day, a joyous laugh. But it’s translucent, ringing hollowly, and the sepia image fades into dull sparks.)

(A snap from the darkness.)

**_(What are you doing?)_ **

(He freezes. Shrinks back.)

(He feels so small.)

_(I’m sorry.)_

(Caught red-handed. He’d done something wrong again.)

(He’d been sure that it wasn’t wrong–)

**_(I don’t trust you.)_ **

(A sharp lash. It burns and stings.)

(He hugs himself, though there is no hot welt where he had been hit.)

(But it still hurts.)

_(I’m sorry.)_

_(I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.)_

**_–bu. Shirabu. Oi. Shirabu._ **

(It’s all his fault.)

(It’s always been his fault.)

(The faintest recollection, of red numbers on paper, slapped down in front of him.)

(He winces before the words come.)

_(‘Why didn’t you do better?’)_

**_Shirabu. Hey. Hey._ **

(He keeps making mistakes.)

(He never should have existed, he should have just _died–_ )

(It’s useless. He’s always been useless.)

(Always doing the wrong thing, never doing _enough_.)

(He wants to die.)

_Go away, go away, please, leave me alone–_

_I’m sorry._

**_Hey. Hey. Shirabu. Listen to me._ **

(He knows better. He knows how to control it.)

(He should never have forgotten.)

(He needs to keep himself controlled, make sure no one can see him.)

(He can’t get better if he doesn’t try harder.)

_Control yourself._

He takes a deep breath, but his chest doesn’t move. He counts. He chants the numbers of pi to himself, trying to block it out, run away, run away from himself–

_(Stop running from your inadequacies.)_

_(Face your demons.)_

Why can’t he stop? Why can’t he breathe? Why can’t he control himself? Why, why, why, why why–

No, no, no, he doesn’t want to go back there, he needs to get himself back under control–

_Stop. Stop. Stop. Slowly. Breathe. Breathe._

He can’t breathe.

**_–rou. Kenjirou. Listen to me._ **

He thinks he hears a voice, but where is it?

**_Shh. Shh. Listen to me. Breathe in. And out. In. And out._ **

**_Listen to my voice, okay?_ **

It’s slow and thick and comforting and sounds so familiar, but it also hurts. It hurts–

(Blindness. Fuzzy white screens, impermeable fogs, a silence that didn’t ring in his ears.)

(Hollow. Suffocating.)

(Drifting, drifting, yanked out of isolation only to be stabbed and thrown back to bleed.)

It _hurts–_

**_In. Out. In. Out. Shh. Breathe. Listen to my voice. Breathe with me._ **

How can he breathe, if he has no lungs?

He’s drowning.

(But he’s not.)

There’s something warm around him, crossing over his back, pulling him into an embrace.

He never realised how cold he was.

**_Shh. Breathe._ **

**_Breathe._ **

**_Breathe._ **

It’s warm. His heart still aches, burning with an emotion he can’t care to name, but it’s _warm._

**_Hush. Hush. It’s alright. It’s alright._ **

**_I’m here._ **

His breath stutters, a rush of cool air filling his chest.

**_It’s alright. Breathe._ **

He stops resisting, and listens to the voice.

He lets go.


	8. Repair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops it's been a month since I posted a chapter and this has been ready the whole month... sorry OTL

He wakes to quiet clinking, feels warm liquid slip down his throat. It’s sweet enough to conceal the innate bitterness of the tea, and he enjoys the flavour.

**_Hey. You’re awake._ **

The voice registers slowly, and he shakes himself into full awareness, the light tone stirring up apprehension in his chest.

_…morning._

**_It’s nearly afternoon, but who cares._ **

The nonchalant, slightly teasing tone makes him tense a little, making him wonder if it is the calm before the storm.

_Mmhmm._

A long sigh.

**_Okay, I can feel your tension. Let’s get this over with, right?_ **

Semi barrels on without waiting for his acknowledgement.

**_I’m sorry about what I did. Blocking you out like that wasn’t fair to you, and it made us really sick. I asked Taichi more about it when you were out, and well…_ **

**_I_ ** **am _grateful that you saved us. Thank you._**

**_And again, I’m sorry for what I did. You have every right to yell at me._ **

Shirabu is too stunned, too relieved, to say anything for a moment.

_You're…not mad at me?_

_(Are you sure?)_

**_For what?_ **

_For… For what I did, before._

A memory flashes across his eyes, across their shared mind and Semi makes a surprised sound.

**_Oh. That._ **

**_I was definitely mad before, but that was because you were reckless, you know? And yeah, I hold grudges for a really long time._** Semi chuckles darkly.

**_I’ve put it behind me now. As long as you never do something that could possibly get us killed again, I’m ready to let it go._ **

_I’m sorry._ It’s a whisper. _I shouldn’t have done it._

**_It’s fine. I forgive you._ **

_I… Thank you._ Shirabu feels faint. It doesn’t seem real, to be forgiven so easily.

**_Don’t do that again, or discuss with me before you want to do something like that, okay? If it affects both of us, we should decide together._ **

_Okay._

**_Hey now. Why so meek?_** It’s a gentle tease. **_The Shirabu I know isn’t so mild._**

Shirabu smiles wryly, a little sadly. _Sorry._

**_You apologise too much._ **

_Sor– Ah._

Semi laughs.

**_You're alright. Don’t worry, okay? And if you need to talk about anything… Well, when you trust me again, I’m willing to listen._ **

( _When_ , not _if_.)

(Such faith.)

_I… Alright. Thank you._

(It’s like an invisible weight has been lifted off his chest, even though he didn’t know it was there until it’s gone.)

He feels Semi smile and sip at his tea, eyes fixed on a patch of sunlight growing across the living room floor.

It’s calm, almost soothing, to be sitting in companionable silence like this, to have a slow, lazy morning without the oppression of the drugs or guilt hanging over his head. It’s warm, even with the chill of the day still clinging to their skin, and he wants to lean into it, to let go and drift.

A thought strikes him, and he stumbles awake in panic.

_Don’t you have to work?_

Semi smiles a little but makes no move to rise. **_The doctor banned me from work for two weeks. Something about taking care of myself better and watching my diet._**

_…oh. Okay._

**_Yaku would have banned me too, honestly. I’m lucky the doctor did it first._ **

_Yaku-san is as fierce as ever, huh?_

**_Of course._ **

A pause, and then, **_I think he’d be pleased to see you again._**

Shirabu’s surprised. _He what?_

**_Both of them kept asking where you were, you know. In the time that we…weren’t on talking terms._** Semi sips slowly, mulling over the warm liquid. **_They were worried._**

_Oh._ It feels odd, but a little nice, to have people he isn’t really close to be worried about him.

Another thought, the unfurling of a bloom. _How long was I out?_

**_That time we weren’t talking? About three months. Or were you asking about the hospital?_ **

Three months?

He lost a quarter of a year.

_Kind of both._

**_Oh. We were released from hospital yesterday. So… About eighteen or so hours?_ **

That’s not too bad, Shirabu thinks.

(He didn’t miss the way Semi said _we_ instead of _me_ , and it makes a tiny tendril of warmth unfurl in his chest.)

(He’s really been forgiven.)

_What about Taichi? Where is he?_

**_He’s got school today, but we can go to dinner with him later, if you want?_ **

_I’d love to._

**_I’ll text him._** Semi sets the cup down, reaching for the device on the other side of the table. He unlocks it and opens up a new message, then pauses.

_Semi-san?_

**_Why don’t you text him? He’d like to hear from you._ **

_Ah. Okay. Are– Are you sure it’s alright?_

**_Of course._** There’s the regressing warmth, the slackening of muscles as Semi pulls away, and Shirabu hurries to take control before they fall over. He stumbles a little, still unused to the physical weight, but catches himself with a palm to the table.

_Um. Thank you._

**_I’ve not been fair to you. This is the least I can do._ **

Shirabu smiles a little, fingers digging into the edges of the phone. _Thank you, Semi-san. I appreciate it._

A light warmth, like someone is trying to ruffle his hair. **_Go on._**

Shirabu turns his attention back to the phone, to the blank conversation, and begins to type.

\-----

**_Hey, Shirabu._ **

_Hmm?_

They still have some time before they have to leave, and Shirabu’s trying his hand at simple tasks, trying to get his strength back. They’re currently reading a book, and Shirabu’s happy to find that it doesn’t take too much effort to hold it up and flip pages.

**_While you were out… I got forced to talk to Mizoguchi-san. It was just this morning, really._ **

_Oh._

Dread seizes him, though they’ve made up. He’s not sure he wants to know what conversation passed between them – how could he, when they could have been discussing ways to be rid of him?

**_She told me that there are methods of willingly disappearing for a while – so that each of us may have time alone and keep our own thoughts._ **

_Okay…?_

A sigh. **_You’re still nervous about it. I guess I can’t blame you._**

**_What I’m saying is that there are healthier ways of blocking each other out. I wanted to know if you wanted to try._ **

_By healthier, do you mean that there are no drugs involved?_

(He said it. He managed to say it, without crumpling or his voice cracking.)

**_Yes._** If Semi picks up on his nervousness, he doesn’t say anything about it. ** _The way Mizoguchi-san described it to me, it’s like forcing yourself to sleep. Detaching yourself from the body, forcibly giving up control and folding in on yourself. Willing yourself to disappear._**

_That sounds easy._

(He knows all too well, the feeling of wanting to disappear.)

**_I don’t know._** Semi sounds sceptical. **_I’m not sure how well it would work._**

_Would you want to try?_

**_I’m willing to. Mizoguchi-san also said that it might not work well at first, that it takes time to…stay under, she called it, for more than a few minutes._ **

_That doesn’t sound too bad._

**_I guess so. Shall I try, and you time me?_ **

_You make it sound like a competition._

**_Maybe it is._** Semi's tone is teasing. **_The one who does it better gets to take a break from the other person._**

_…_

**_Still too soon for this sort of jokes?_ **

_Yeah._

**_My bad. I thought you might like a break from me, after all that._ **

_I’m– I’m not sure about that. It– It was the isolation, that really got to me._

There’s a gathering warmth around him – it feels almost like a hug.

**_I’m sorry about that. But I think it’s important that I try this now, so that we won’t make that mistake in future._ **

_I… I know._

He feels a gentle wave of emotion from Semi – almost like a pat on the back – just before the warmth pulls away. **_Alright. I’m going to try._**

There’s a sensation of straining, of wavering, and he can feel Semi’s presence weaken. It doesn’t disappear completely – it fades, and surges back suddenly, shocking Shirabu enough that he gasps aloud.

**_I’m… What? Did it work?_ **

Semi sounds a little groggy, but mostly frustrated.

_No. You almost had it, I think._

**_Damn. Let me try again._ **

Again, the fading, the feeling of pulling away. Not like a wall, but like tendrils of mist fading in the sun.

A jerk, a slow awareness, and another fading. A stronger jerk, and Shirabu closes the book, lying down. The sensations are dizzying, with the strength of them.

He watches the clock, counting the minutes between each jerk, savouring the ebbing away of consciousness and the peace that comes with the lack of a pounding head.

It feels like an eternity before he feels Semi's presence emerge fully beside him, and sighs in relief, swallowing back the last of the nausea.

_Five minutes,_ he tells him, _But I don’t think you were completely gone._

**_I don’t think I was, either. I feel like I had a very bad nap._ **

_Do you want me to try now?_

**_You don’t have to, if you don’t want to._ **

_This is a joint effort. I can’t let you be the one who leaves all the time._

**_Do it only if you feel up to it, okay?_ **

_Yes. I’m ready._

Semi repeats the steps to him and Shirabu listens, peels back the still-raw wounds from their fight, dipping into the heavy emotion.

The choking blackness of terror, the suffocating weight of sadness, the want not to be there. Emotions that cut too deep, that press on him and make it hard to breathe.

He doesn’t want to be there. He doesn’t want to be there.

He envisions dark walls closing in, shutting out any light, compressing, compressing. Bands wrap around his chest, squeezing, crushing–

And the voices. The ones that cut and tear and rend; the ones that flay him, for any and every wrong he has ever committed. He has never felt so small.

He doesn’t resist it, this time. He lets the darkness wash over him, and falls.

\-----

_A cascade of pink, raining down. The wind whips his hair into his eyes – it stings._

_Footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t turn to look. What can he see, when he is blinded?_

_Something brushes through his hair, roughly sweeping, gently combing. “Ugh. It’s no use to do it out here. Come on, let’s go in. I’ll help you.”_

_He follows in the direction that the person tugs him in, eyes still shut._

_They stop, and hands are in his hair again. He can feel things dislodging from his hair, the little flurries they make as they flutter down, as they land on his shoulders._

_“That’s the last of it.”_

_He opens his eyes, but he can’t make out the person’s face. He thinks he knows, though, who it is._

_“Thank you.”_

It’s still warm, a gentle brush, quiet wonder. **_Hey._**

He’s still waking, the world doesn’t make sense – he’s seeing but not seeing, and everything is blurring together – what is a dream, and what’s reality?

The warmth never fades, and he clings to that even as he begins to orientate himself, even as common sense begins to make sense of the world.

_Oh._

He knows what that warmth is.

**_You did it._ **

That’s what it is. _Who_ it is.

_Thanks._

**_How?_ **

_I did as you said. I wanted to disappear._

**_But you came back._** There’s a note of wonder in Semi’s voice, as if he doesn’t believe it. As if he thought he might not want to come back.

(Might it be possible that he could disappear, and not come back?)

Shirabu thinks on this, but only briefly.

_Yeah. Yeah, I came back._

He feels like he knows now. That he wouldn’t want to leave, not really.

**_It’s been an hour._ **

_What?_

What?

**_Yeah. You’re pretty good at this._ **

_Thanks, I guess._

**_What was it like?_ **

What _was_ it like?

_Like a dream_ , he says. _Like I was sleeping. I don’t remember much, now._

(He remembers it was warm.)

(He thinks he knows who it was, pulling cherry blossom petals from his hair.)

**_That makes sense._ **

He feels Semi stand, feels him stretch. Sees him pick up his phone and wallet and head for the door.

**_We’re going to be late to meet Taichi. Maybe we’ll try again later, and you can teach me how you do it?_ **

He thinks on this. It seems like a good plan.

_Sure._

\-----

Kawanishi is already sitting at a table near the back when they arrive, fingers skimming over the lines in a thick book. He offers a smile and a nod when they slide into the seat across him, packing away his book. “Hello, Semi-san.”

“Hey Taichi.” Semi shrugs his bag off. “I’m going to let Shirabu talk to you for the rest of the night, okay? If you want a private conversation, I can disappear for a while.”

_Are you sure?_

**_If he really wants to, I can try. If it doesn’t work, I’ll just pretend I’m not here._ **

_You mean I’ll have to pretend you’re not there._

**_Yeah. But what Taichi doesn’t know won’t kill him._ **

“I, um,” Kawanishi says. He looks surprised, and Shirabu can’t hold back a snicker. “Okay?”

“Shirabu can explain it to you.” Semi leans back, releasing control, and Shirabu steps up in his place.

He blinks a little, adjusting himself to the feeling of a body. It’s still odd, especially since he was weightless and bodiless for months.

Kawanishi is staring at them.

Shirabu smirks at him, the action coming to him easily. “What?”

“I honestly can’t tell the difference between the two of you, especially when you’re wearing the same face.”

“Get used to it.” Shirabu relaxes into the familiar banter. “At least you’re not staring and talking to a complete stranger.”

“You even sound the same.”

“In case you haven’t realised, this is _not my body_.”

“Oh yes, how could I have missed the 4.7cm difference.” Kawanishi rolls his eyes, and Shirabu splutters. He can hear Semi laughing in the back of his mind and shoots a thought at him.

_Traitor._

**_Hey, hey. You gotta admit that sharing a body with me means you have slightly better assets now._ **

_Excuse you, Semi-san._

**_No, excuse yourself, Taichi’s trying to talk to you._ **

Shirabu reluctantly turns his attention back outwards, where Kawanishi is trying to shove a menu into his face.

“Once you’re done arguing with Semi-san, maybe you’ll want to eat something.”

“Was it that obvious?” He takes the menu and smacks the retreating hand with it, smirking at Kawanishi’s scowl.

“You didn’t hear me for thirty seconds, so yes.”

“Wow, thirty seconds! The world must be coming to an end if I can ignore your shit for half a minute.”

“Considering how you’d never pass up a chance to get back at me? Half a minute is a _miracle_.”

“Asshat.” Shirabu tries to kick him under the table.

“Watch it, I’m paying for your food.”

“Oh, you are? How sweet, Taichi, is this supposed to be a date?”

“I’m dumping you as a friend,” Kawanishi announces. “And here I was going to tell you that shirasu are still in season…”

“No, no, no, no, no, you take that back right now.” Shirabu leans across the table, covering Kawanishi’s mouth. “They’re _still in season?”_

Kawanishi peels his hand off and drops it on the table, wrinkling his nose at it. “It’s November, of course they are.”

“Order. Right now.”

“How would you know if they serve it here?”

“You wouldn’t have chosen this place otherwise, I know your scheming too well.”

“Then you know that I change plans if I want to,” Kawanishi says with a smirk, turning to call the waiter.

Shirabu kicks him again.

In the back of their mind, Semi watches their antics with a smile.

It’s nice to see Shirabu so lively.

\-----

They thank the waiter as their food is delivered, Kawanishi passing over the chopsticks from the box on the table. Shirabu thanks him with a nod, fitting them into his hand, fumbling a little with how they feel.

It feels weird to be holding chopsticks again, despite having used them for all his life, and it does not help that his hand is bigger, his fingers longer, and _why can’t he hold the damn sticks properly_.

Kawanishi watches him struggle, chewing impassively. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Shirabu replies, shifting his grip on the chopsticks. Up a little, down a little. No, too much. Right there. But it doesn’t feel comfortable, doesn’t feel _right._

“Really, I could show you how to hold chopsticks, if you’ve forgotten–”

“Taichi, I know how to hold my own damn chopsticks, stop it.”

One of the chopsticks slips from his grip, dropping back-end in to his bowl. Shirabu fishes it out with a curse, bumping his fingers into the wall as he tries to grab a serviette.

The blond doesn’t look impressed. “I’m going to ask the waiter for a spoon.”

_“Don’t you dare.”_

“It’s okay, Kenjirou. You’ve been out of commission for a while, you can take a break and use a spoon.”

Shirabu has no idea how Kawanishi can look so concerned and yet look so patronising at the same time.

“Honestly, I can use chopsticks _just fine–_ ”

“Mmhmm. Yes, child. Ah, excuse me…”

Shirabu sets the chopsticks on the table, fuming quietly, and Semi snickers in the back of his head.

_Shut up._

He sounds so petulant that Semi bursts out laughing.

**_I didn’t give you a lot of time to practice this afternoon. Blame me, if you must._ **

_Okay. I’m telling Taichi it’s your fault._

**_By all means._ **

Kawanishi sticks his newly acquired spoon into Shirabu’s bowl and pats his hand condescendingly, waving away his excuses before beginning to eat again.

Shirabu sulks, but the lure of his favourite food is too much to resist, and he sets aside his animosity for the moment.

He makes a face as he takes a bite of his food, mulling over the flavour. A second and third bite don’t change the taste of it, and he scoops some rice up with it, frowning at the fish.

**_What is it?_ **

_It tastes different to what I remembered._

“Is your food not refined enough for your palate?” Kawanishi drawls. Even he had noticed, and Shirabu feels too exposed. He’s not used to anyone noticing when something is wrong, even if it is just Kawanishi.

“It’s fine, it just… Doesn’t taste as amazing as I remember.”

“Hmm.” Kawanishi pinches a few fish from his bowl, chewing them slowly. “Still tastes like shirasu to me.”

Shirabu scowls at him before taking another bite and chewing despondently. “What’s the difference? It’s still shirasu.”

**_Maybe because you haven’t had anything to eat in a while?_ **

_Maybe._

Kawanishi watches him closely, joking demeanour gone. “Have you ever thought that shirasu isn’t what your taste buds prefer anymore?”

Both of them stare at him, realisation slowly dawning.

_Shit._

**_He has a point._ **

_Ugh, damnit._

**_Do you want to test that theory?_ **

_We’re not getting tekka makki just for this theory._

**_If Taichi’s right, that means you’ll enjoy it as much as I do._ **

Shirabu hates that he might be right.

**_Besides, Taichi’s paying._ **

_You’ve convinced me._

Shirabu turns his attention back outwards only to see Kawanishi frowning at him. Before he can say anything, the blond says, “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

Shirabu smirks at him with barely contained glee. “Nope.”

Kawanishi gives a long-suffering sigh.

\-----

**_Not that much wasabi, geez._ **

_I can put as much as I want._

**_Who’s the expert in what my taste buds prefer?_ **

_Eugh._

Shirabu scrapes the piece of sushi on the side of the dipping dish, getting most of the wasabi off. Kawanishi watches him with barely contained amusement, his own meal complete.

The burst of flavour across his tongue almost makes Shirabu melt, and he can vaguely feel Semi swooning with him.

A loud laugh makes him open an eye to glare at his friend, but Kawanishi doesn’t look apologetic in the least.

“I take it that the experiment is successful?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Shirabu says. “I might have to repeat it.”

“By all means,” Kawanishi says, waving a hand at the plate. “As long as you’ve reached a conclusion by the time you’ve finished this plate.”

**_Don’t come to a conclusion. Make him buy another plate._ **

_But I’m_ full.

**_Shh, I’ll take over._ **

_We share a body._

**_Technicalities._ **

(In the end, they were too full to make Kawanishi buy another plate.)

\-----

Shirabu and Kawanishi walk together in companionable silence, eyes lazily watching the late-night goers and the office workers who are leaving late. The night is quiet, the sky clear. The moon shines down on them – impossibly bright, even with the glare of city lights.

It’s this that Shirabu missed. The not-quite silence, the bustle of people on the streets. Knowing that he is just a small being connected to something bigger, just a small part of a larger body. It’s good to be big and in charge sometimes, but at times, it’s better to let go and realise that the world is so much bigger than he knows.

He can feel Semi nodding off in the back of his mind and smiles to himself. It’s not yet late, but their body is still weak from the three months of deprivation and bad decisions, and he forgets that it wasn’t just him who was suffering in their time apart.

Their feet stop them; it’s a red light. Both of them reach for the button at the same time, jabbing at it multiple times just to piss the other off. They glare at each other – a raised eyebrow, one of them pulls a face – and turn away, snickering.

“I can’t believe you still make the same expressions.”

“Well, I’m still me.”

A beat of silence, a head cocked. Eyes searching, taking him in.

“You're right.”

The light turns green, and they continue their journey.

The silence between them is amiable, almost warm. A deep understanding flows between the duo, who’ve known each other for so long, who can read each other so easily.

(He’ll never admit it to Kawanishi, but Shirabu has been feeling more and more like himself as their evening progressed. He doesn’t feel as hesitant as before, and definitely doesn’t feel as emotionally drained.)

(He feels almost completely like himself again.)

The tiniest catch of a shoe on the sidewalk, barely visible stumbling. A hand lifting his, tucking it into the crook of an elbow.

Shirabu looks up with a half-smile and a roll of his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re tired,” Kawanishi states. “We’re not far, now.”

Shirabu knows better than to protest, because he can feel the lead in his bones, too. His hand curls more snugly around Kawanishi’s bicep, stepping closer, knocking his ear against Kawanishi’s shoulder.

They startle a little, then chuckle.

“I forget that you’re tall now.”

“Oi.”

“It feels weird not to have your head knocking against my arm.”

_“Oi.”_

“You're still my favourite irritating person.”

“I hate you too.”

“You could never hate me.”

“Watch me.”

“Mmhmm. Keep lying to yourself.”

Shirabu jabs him in the side with his free hand, laughing when Kawanishi flinches away. He doesn’t even care that he nearly fell over when Kawanishi recoiled.

“You are horrible, and I should leave you here to die.”

“Love you too.”

“You just said you hated me.”

“We have a complicated relationship, Taichi. Suck it up.”

Their verbal jibes become softer as they near the residential apartments, trying not to disrupt the neighbourhood. This, too, is familiar – whispered arguments, dry remarks, trying to push each other into the piles of rubbish waiting to be picked up by the garbage truck on the morrow.

Their feet lead them in one direction, their minds lost in their own world. It’s a shock when they find that they are in front of the apartment door, and Shirabu leans against it as he digs through his pockets for the keys.

He locates them, and turns the key in the lock. Looks up, when he realises that Kawanishi hasn’t moved. “Why are you still here?”

“Rude.”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You know what I mean.”

“I’ll forgive you this once. But um…” The blond pulls his bag off his shoulder and digs through it. “Can I talk to Semi-san for a moment?”

Shirabu’s curious now, but he nods and turns his thoughts inward, softly probing.

_Semi-san._

**_Mm?_ **

_Are you awake enough?_

**_Depends._ **

_Taichi wants to talk to you._

**_For what?_ **

_Beats me._

**_Mmph. Fine._** A yawn, accompanied by a mental stretch. **_I’m up._**

They switch places easily, control handed over like the passing of a torch. Shirabu folds in on himself, getting comfortable even as he watches Kawanishi pull something out of his bag.

A wrapped box?

The bag is slung back over a shoulder, the box presented with two hands. Semi accepts the package dumbly, eyes tracing the words on the wrapping paper, the same words that fall from Kawanishi’s mouth.

“Happy birthday. Or, you know, belated birthday.”

“I’m… Thank you.” Semi lifts his eyes, mute with shock. “You didn’t have to; my birthday was so long ago.”

Kawanishi shrugs. “I wanted to. I hope you’ll like it.”

“Thank you,” Semi repeats. “I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Kawanishi rubs his neck awkwardly. “So, uh… New Year is coming soon, and some of the old team was wondering if we were going to meet up and go to the shrine like we used to do?”

**_The old team? More like Satori._ **

“Sure, I don’t mind. Is there a time and date for all this?”

“We’re still trying to see who wants to go. But I suppose there will be details on the chat soon.”

“I forgot that chat existed,” Semi admits. “I’ll have a look at it later. Thanks for asking me.”

“No problem,” Kawanishi says. “It’s getting late, so I should be going…”

“Of course, of course. I hope you get back safely.” Semi smiles. “Thank you again. I’ll see you around.”

“Yes. Goodnight, Semi-san, Kenjirou.”

Shirabu startles out of his shock, mumbling a hurried _Bye_ that Semi repeats. Kawanishi turns towards the lift lobby with a small wave, leaving Semi to duck inside his apartment.

The wrapped box tucked under their arm is an uncomfortable reminder of the ordeal that just passed, but even more uncomfortable are obligatory words that he feels he needs to say.

_Semi-san._

**_Hmm?_ **

_Happy belated birthday._

**_Oh. Thanks. You don’t have to say it, you know, if you don’t want to._ **

_I already said it, now I don’t have to do it again._ He smiles a little when Semi snorts. _But I do feel like I have to. It’s…weird, thinking about it._

**_Weird how?_ **

_You didn’t really get a proper birthday celebration, did you? Because of… What happened._

**_Oh. It’s fine._ **

_Is it really?_

(People make so much fuss about birthdays, it feels odd not to be excited about one.)

**_Yeah. I mean, it’s just a date on a calendar, right? So you survived another year. That’s it._ **

_That’s how birthdays initially started, isn’t it? Because children used to die so young in the past, with all the diseases and poor healthcare, that to survive a year was a miracle._

**_Is that so? I never knew._ **

_Now you do._

**_I forgot how snarky you can be,_** Semi tells him, rolling his eyes.

(His breath catches.)

_…I could stop._

**_What? No._** Semi sounds shocked. **_Why would you?_**

_It’s bothering you._

**_That’s never stopped you before. Is this about what happened?_ **

Shirabu says nothing.

Semi sighs. **_I really don’t blame you for that any more, alright? I know it’ll take some time for you to let go of it, but try to believe me when I say I don’t blame you._**

_…I’ll try._

**_That’s the best I can ask for._** Semi walks over to the couch and drops on to it, tucking his feet under him. **_Now, are you curious about what Taichi bought?_**

_Yes._

**_Then let’s find out._ **

Semi rips the paper off, flipping the box over to see the name on it. The label tears a delighted laugh from him, even as Shirabu sours.

_Isn't that just the sort of chocolate you get from any tourist area?_

**_Yeah, but they're so good! These biscuits melt in your mouth._ **

_I know. I've tried them._

**_Don't you like them?_ **

_I do, but… Hokkaido chocolate?_ Souvenir _chocolates?_ Shirabu makes a disgusted sound. _What was Taichi thinking?_

**_Hey hey, it's the thought that counts. Besides, I like these, so it doesn't matter._ **

_Can I text him and tell him what a cheapskate he is anyway?_

**_Sure. But why?_ **

_Our relationship thrives on dissing each other. He's got five months' worth of suppressed shit coming his way._

Semi laughs and pulls out his phone. **_Go ahead. You two are so amusing._**

_Yes, yes, I'm your personal live-in soap opera. Thank you for watching, please leave a five-star review._

Semi snorts as he hands control over. **_I've missed your snark._**

(His breath catches, but this time, he feels warm.)

_I'm flattered._

**_Go on, text Taichi. I'm binging this soap opera now, I need the next episode._ **

_Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm getting to it._


	9. All Cards on the Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not my favourite chapter and even after sitting on it for months, it doesn't feel right... Have it anyway :')

Their first week of rest went by surprisingly quickly, though they didn’t do much – most of their hours were spent sleeping or cooking and cleaning, only stepping out for groceries a few times.

**_What's on the menu?_ **

_I don't know. What's in the fridge?_

**_I don't know._ **

_Let's go out._

A groan. **_Again?_**

_Doing groceries is fun._

**_You're such an aunty._ **

_Excuse you_.

**_Only aunties like doing this sort of stuff._ **

_Again,_ excuse you.

**_Yeah, I'll nap while you go for groceries, how 'bout that?_ **

_No, you have to stick around to make sure I don't get too much stuff._

**_Like what?_ **

_…there's this cheesecake recipe I wanted to try…_

**_And what, pray tell, are we going to do with so much cheesecake?_ **

_Fatten Taichi up._

**_Ew, for who to eat?_ **

_EW, I can't believe you went there!_

**_You brought it up!_ **

_You thought about it!_

**_Okay, ew, no, that is_ ** **not _happening, please take your trash self out._**

_No,_ you _get out._

**_Just go get the damn groceries._ **

Shirabu makes a face as he feels Semi retreating to his corner of their mind with a cacophony of _ew_ s. He gets up anyway, and the way he doesn't tremble or shake as he moves is a good sign of how far they've improved in just a few days.

The weather is pretty good as he steps out – no chilly wind, the sun bright overhead. He pauses on the sidewalk, tilting his face up to bask in its warmth. He feels a little like a plant, and the thought makes him smile.

**_You're ridiculous._ **

_Shh._ Shirabu doesn't miss the fond tone in Semi's voice, but still swats at him. _I enjoy being warm, thank you._

**_You're going to burn, neither of us put on sunscreen._ **

_A few seconds won't kill me, it's nearly winter._ Shirabu reluctantly turns back to the road, heading for the bus stop. _Besides, vitamin D is good._

**_Touché._ **

The supermarket isn't very crowded, though Shirabu has to dodge a few kids barrelling into his path. He smiles and nods at the lady who chases after them, waving away her hurried apologies.

In the back of his mind, he can feel Semi smiling. **_I didn’t know you were fond of kids._**

_I’m not._

**_Then why the smile?_ **

_I appreciate that the lady is doing her best. Kids can be a handful._

**_You’re in a good mood today._ **

_Mm. I guess._

**_Have you ever thought about having kids?_ **

_Hmm? No, I guess not. Don’t really like how noisy they are._

**_Oh, right._ **

_Do you want kids?_

**_Maybe…?_** Semi sounds a little hesitant. **_I always thought it’d be nice to raise a mini-me, but then I think about the work involved and I don’t really want to put in that amount of effort._**

_Wouldn’t your future wife be the one to raise the kid though?_

**_Yeah, I guess, but I don’t like how our society makes the women raise the children and the men aren’t really involved, you know? If a man and a woman come together to make a child, then both should have equal responsibility in bringing them up._ **

_That’s… That makes a lot of sense._

**_Thank you. That’s partly why I’m not sure if I’m ever going to have kids. You’ve got to be ready for that amount of responsibility, in bringing up someone to be a good person while maintaining a proper balance between that and work. I don’t think I’m mature enough to do that yet._ **

_You’re plenty mature,_ Shirabu tells him. _That you have thought that far and taken that into account – that’s a lot more mature than a lot of other people. And you’re only twenty._

Semi laughs. **_Thanks. Oh hey, go back, we need dashi._**

_I thought the dashi was further down this aisle?_

**_No, I’m sure we passed it._ **

_Fine, I’ll go back. But if you’re wrong…_

**_If I’m wrong, then we got a bit more exercise. Exercise is good, don’t complain._ **

Shirabu grumbles quietly anyway, and Semi gives him a metaphorical smack.

The rest of the trip goes by uneventfully, though they run into the children again at the checkout. One of them is begging her mother for sweets, and the lady is having a hard time dissuading her.

_Ugh, kids and candy._

**_Everyone had a sweet tooth at some stage, no?_ **

_Maybe. I'm pretty sure my parents didn't let me have sweets like that._

**_Not at all?_ **

_Well, maybe the traditional kind like mochi or dango, but not these store-bought sugar bombs._

Shirabu can hear Semi laughing. **_You have the best turns of phrase sometimes._**

_Excuse you, I always have good analogies._

**_Mmhmm, mmhmm._ **

Shirabu bypasses the children, moving towards the self-service checkouts. He’s scanning the items almost peacefully, when he feels a quiet exclamation in the back of his mind.

_What is it?_

**_I was just thinking… You haven't seen your parents since the surgery, right?_ **

His fingers slacken, dropping the bag of vegetables on the counter. Shirabu quickly checks it over even though it wasn’t a big drop – trying, trying to avoid the question.

_…no, I guess not._

**_I phrased that badly. Of course you haven't seen them, but would you like to?_ **

_I…_

He thinks about it. Is it worth it, to see them, when they had already said their goodbyes?

**_Shirabu?_ **

He shakes the thought off, wondering how to phrase it. _I'm not sure it would be the best idea._

**_Why not? They're your parents._ **

_They didn't think the surgery was a good idea,_ he admits quietly. _We've already said our farewells. I don't think it'd be good to reopen an old wound, when they've already had closure._

**_Is that really what you think?_ **

It’s an innocent question, but he can’t help but feel cornered by it. Can’t help but feel the underlying accusation.

_They never liked me that much anyway. It's fine._

(He regrets those words as soon as they’re out.)

(No one, especially not Semi, needs to know that.)

**_What? Why?_ **

_Just leave it be._

_(Please. I don't want to talk about it.)_

**_No, I want to know why you think like that. Why wouldn't your parents like you? You're a good kid._ **

Shirabu smiles wryly as he picks up the groceries. _Thank you. But I was never good enough of a kid._

**_What?_ **

_I never did enough, alright?_ His voice sounds exasperated, the rising emotion from the age-old adage driving his composure away. _I was never good enough. Can we please not talk about it?_

**_But you’re their kid._** Semi sounds confused. **_They should love you no matter what._**

Shirabu snorts. _Maybe you think so, but that’s not how my family works. You earn your place._

**_That has got to be the most bullshit thing I have ever heard anyone say._ **

(It’s crude but kind, and he almost feels another smile pull at his lips.)

_Maybe, but it’s true. I’m the one who got sent to bed without dinner the most, got punished the most. There’s nothing I could have done worse, because I_ was _the worst. Even my kid sister could do better than me._

**_Better in what?_ **

_Anything. Everything._ He’s frustrated, and it leaks into his tone. Why doesn’t Semi get it? It isn’t so difficult to understand. _Studies, clubs, chores. Attitude._

**_Those aren’t very big things._ **

_They were the only things that mattered, and I couldn’t do them right._

**_There are so much bigger things than just that._ **

_Maybe that’s how you grew up, but that’s not how my family works, alright? They want puppets, not children. You follow instructions and deliver results or you get scolded._

Semi is quiet for a long while. Shirabu is beginning to hope that he has finally given it up when he hears, **_Is this why you were so apologetic when I shut you out? Because of the scolding?_**

A chill goes down his spine – he knows Semi felt it, too.

_I don’t want to talk about this._

**_Shirabu._ **

_No. Don’t._

**_Don’t shut me out_** , Semi warns. **_We both know what happened the last time._**

_I won’t if you stop asking me these things._

**_I saw a little of what you saw, alright? That time when we were in the hospital, and I couldn’t get you to calm down._ **

_What? What did you see?_

(He’s digging his own grave, but he has to know. Has to know how much he has to deny, to cover up.)

(No one should know that part of him.)

**_Why are you so scared of your father?_ **

_I’m not scared of him now,_ he says.

(It’s true. His father has no more power over him, not when he’s this far away.)

(None of them… None of them can get to him now.)

**_You didn’t answer the question._ **

_Because anything less than perfection would get me kicked out of the house, alright? I was a kid, I had nowhere to go._

**_What? That’s messed up._ **

_I already know that, thanks._

**_But that’s not all, is it?_ **

Curse Semi and his perceptiveness.

_Have you ever been caned?_

**_No._ **

_Then you don’t know the terror of being kept in line with it._

**_So tell me._ **

_No._ He cuts Semi off, because he can hear the protest coming. _Not now. When we’re back in the apartment._

**_I’m holding you to that._ **

(He knows he would.)

The walk back to the apartment is silent.

\-----

He can’t put it off any longer.

They’ve finally put the groceries away, settled down on the sofa. Each second that counted down to this conversation had been hanging over his head–

**_Tell me._ **

Shirabu sighs deeply, and begins.

_Ever heard of negative reinforcement?_

**_That thing they use to train animals?_ **

_Yeah. Similar concept with training children, though it is the evil sibling called_ positive punishment _that was used more often with me._

_Positive punishment is adding something aversive when an unwanted action is performed, like–_

**_Caning a child who didn’t get good enough grades?_ **

Semi’s voice is quiet, but he can hear the barely suppressed anger in it.  He can feel how their hands tighten into fists, and he welcomes the pain. It grounds him.

He nods.

_Would you believe I was a really slow learner as a kid? I took ages to learn basic vocabulary and stuff, and every time I mispronounced or remembered wrongly, I’d either be scolded or caned._

_I also used to get in heaps of trouble for small things like… Stealing sweets during naptime._

_My older brother got perfect grades all the time, so I had to live up to the standards he set. If I didn’t, I’d be hit for every mark that I lost, no matter if it was a careless mistake or if I truly didn’t know the answer._

**_That’s no way to treat a child._ **

_I know that now, but back then, it was all I knew. It was normal to me. Living under constant fear of being hit or kicked out of the house was so normal that it took ages for me to grow out of it when I moved into the Shiratorizawa dorms._

**_That’s awful. I’m glad you got out of there._ **

_Yeah. Me too._ Shirabu pauses. _Not that it helped very much then, because my parents were still supporting me. But now…_

**_Now you’re no longer living under their roof._ **

It’s said with so much force that Shirabu’s a little taken aback, before he agrees. _No, I’m not._

**_Don’t let them push you around any more. And if they do… They can answer to me._ **

(He doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry.)

(That’s the nicest thing anyone has said they’d do.)

(He knows Semi means it, and it makes his offer so much more authentic than anything anyone else has said.)

_Thank you. I promise I won’t._

**_Good._ **

A beat of silence, stretching into a long moment of quiet. It’s almost contemplative, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

**_Hey._ **

_Hmm?_

**_What I said before, about visiting your parents… I take that back. I only asked before because I met them in the hospital after the surgery._ **

_You what?_

(He’s afraid to know, but he’s curious, curious.)

(He needs to know.)

**_It was after we met for the first time. Well. The first time after we started sharing a body. Anyway. They were passing by, and I heard them talking to the doctor about retrieving your body._ **

_Oh. Oh…_

(They didn’t meet, then?)

(That’s a relief, but it brings with it a whole new set of anxiety.)

It’s not surprising, now that Shirabu thinks about it. His parents would have gone to get his body, to give him a ‘proper burial’ or something.

_Did you hear what they were going to do with it?_

**_Not really. Something about cremation?_ **

_That would make sense._

(He’s still thinking, thinking. About the worst that could have happened.)

(What if his parents _did_ decide to check up on who his donor was, when they retrieved his body?)

(What did they think?)

**_Why?_ **

_Best to keep the disease contained, you know. No point in wasting a casket for useless me._

**_What? Why would you say that of yourself? Is this about being inadequate in their eyes again?_ **

_Huh?_ Shirabu snaps out of his thoughts, focusing fully on their conversation. _No, no. I couldn’t give any of my organs for donation, and it makes sense to cremate my body, what with my disease._

**_What disease?_ **

_A degenerative disease. It’s been in my family for generations._

**_Muscle degeneration?_ **

_Honestly? I don’t have a clue, and neither do the doctors. Could be plain old muscle degeneration, could be something that affects the rest of my organs. Maybe it was my nerves, because I could hardly move towards the end. Point is, that’s not the sort of thing you’d want to donate to someone else, just in case._

**_I guess that makes sense._ **

_Mm._ He leans against the armrest of the sofa, watching the sunlight play through the window.

A moment of peace, then, a stirring. A blip of curiosity that is voiced out.

**_Is that why you asked to be part of the pilot study?_ **

Shirabu blanches, but it’s too late now. Too late to take his words, his medical history back.

(It would have come out eventually. He couldn’t have hidden it forever.)

_Yeah. I thought it’d be better to chance it, since I was going to die anyway. It was only a matter of time._

**_That’s very noble of you._ **

Shirabu snorts. _It was selfish. I wanted to live._

**_Who wouldn’t want to?_ **

_Not me, that’s for sure._

He can feel the judgemental stare that Semi gives him even though he’s not looking in a mirror, and has to stifle a laugh.

They are quiet again, listening to ambient sounds in the apartment and beyond, each lost in his own thoughts. Shirabu’s mind keeps drifting back to his parents, his family, to the _what-if_ s and _what-could-have-been_ s, and he can’t help wondering, thinking…

_It'd be interesting to visit my family, I think. If not for my parents, then for my sister._

(He could find out. He could see for himself, if they still think as poorly of him as before.)

(Why does he care so much?)

**_Your younger sister? What's she like?_ **

_Smart. Pretty. Cheerful and humble and supportive._ Shirabu smiles a little, thinking about her. _Mika-chan probably loves me the most out of everyone in my family._

**_That’s sweet._ **

_Mm. Maybe I can call and arrange for a visit, before we have to go back to work?_

**_Sure. Go ahead._ **

_Thanks._

Shirabu picks up the phone, typing in the number he knows by heart. He’s about to press _Call_ when he wonders, _Semi-san?_

**_Yeah?_ **

_What about your family?_

**_What about them?_ **

Shirabu rolls his eyes. _Do you have siblings, what are your parents like… You know._

**_I’m an only child,_** Semi tells him, amused. **_My parents are good people – they let me do whatever I want, and I don’t think they’ve ever scolded me for small things, unless it endangered my life._**

_That sounds nice._

**_It is, but I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to have siblings._ **

_Ew, no, you don’t want siblings. They’re gross._

**_Even your sister?_ **

_Mika-chan is cute, but man, can she throw a tantrum._

Semi snorts. **_She can’t be worse than you._**

_Excuse– I– I do_ not _throw tantrums!_

**_Mmhmm. Right. I suppose I should count all your little outbursts in high school ‘hysterics’, then?_ **

_I prefer the term 'disagreements,’ thanks._

**_You fabricate the best tales._ **

_Shh. Learning curve. I was young._

**_And dramatic. It was only two or three years ago._ **

_Learning curve, Semi-san. You were just too calm._

**_Calm is a good thing._ **

_Yeah, yeah._

**_To be honest, I was never that calm whenever I had to deal with you. You were a massive pain._ **

_Excuse you, I am an angel._

**_Let me ask Taichi about that._ **

_Don’t you dare._

**_Why? Afraid he’ll side with me?_ **

_He’ll side with you just to mess with me._

**_Fair. Aren’t you going to call your sister?_ **

_What? Oh, yeah._

Shirabu still hesitates, and a hint of emotion from him sparks understanding in Semi.

**_Okay, okay, I’ll give you your privacy. You could’ve just said so._ **

_I didn’t want to seem rude._

**_You’re always rude, it makes no difference._ **

_Um, no?_

Semi laughs. **_Yes, you are. But I don’t mind._**

His presence fades out before Shirabu can reply – he’s gotten a lot better at it over the past few days – and he’s left with a growing well of confused emotion.

\-----

_Mika-chan doesn’t quite believe it’s me._

Semi notes the light tone of Shirabu’s voice and the fondness in it. ** _Oh?_**

_Yeah, even though I sent her a picture of our ID with both our names. She demands to meet me in person to 'prove it’._

**_Does she now?_ **

_I reminded her that I don’t look the same as before, and you know what she said?_

**_What?_ **

_‘Ken-nii, your soul is what makes you an ass, not your body. Once we meet, of course I’ll know if it’s you.’_

Semi bursts into laughter, ignoring the feeling that Shirabu is rolling his eyes at him. **_I like her already._**

_Good, because we’re going to visit._

**_Wait, what?_ **

That was sudden and unexpected.

_Sorry that I didn’t ask you first. But I figured… We have another week off, and we’re both going crazy cooped up here, so why not go back to Miyagi for a bit? You could visit your family too._

**_I…_ **

Semi shuts up, thinking.

It’s not a bad idea by any means, and Shirabu’s right. Still, he doesn’t really like the way it was executed.

**_Okay. But don’t drop bombshells like that again. I’m…not overly fond of surprises._ **

_Sure. I probably should have asked first, but Mika-chan demanded it, and you’ve got nothing lined up for the next week…_ Shirabu trails off, sensing Semi’s growing tension. He sighs. _Okay_ , _okay. You’ve got me. I’m making excuses for my actions. I’ll do my best to make sure it won’t happen again._

**_Thank you for admitting that so quickly._ **

_Pride is the thing that I should be worrying the least about, isn’t it?_ Shirabu sounds a little abashed. _There are literally no barriers between us, and co-existing means so much more than just residing in the same body. I get that now._

**_I'm glad you understand that._ **

_Yeah, yeah. So, um. Miyagi?_

Semi rolls his eyes. **_When did you want to visit?_**

_In two days? It’ll be expensive, but that’s enough time to prepare. Maybe a day trip, if you don’t want to stay too long._

**_How about we stay overnight and come back on the evening of the second day? I don’t think we’ll have enough time to visit both our families in one day. It’ll be too exhausting._ **

_That sounds fine by me._

**_I’ll book the train tickets and the hotel._ **

\-----

The train ride reminds him of another time, another life. It’s almost odd, to see the train station again, to sit in a chair, but to feel every surface a little differently.

**_I’ve no idea why you’re so excited about taking the train._ **

Semi sounds amused, and Shirabu rolls his eyes at him.

_It’s different, but the same._

**_Never mind. Forget I said anything._ **

_Hey._

**_It’s too early to think about this._ **

_It’s nearly ten._

**_Still too early. You can watch the scenery, I’ll take a nap._ **

_You’re sure?_

(They both know what he’s really asking.)

_(You’re sure you want to leave me in charge when we’re in public?)_

**_Yeah. Wake me up when we get there._ **

_Okay._

It’s almost natural now, to pick up the reins of control, to shift their eyes to the view outside the window. To listen to the hustle and bustle around them, of people getting on the train, finding their seats, of the conductor calling for the last passengers before the doors close.

In the back of his mind, he feels the soft brush of Semi’s mind against his, like a pat on the shoulder. Then it drifts away, consciousness slowly dimming, but never disappearing completely.

Shirabu smiles into the collar of his jacket. Who knew it’d be so reassuring, to have someone beside him all the time?

(It hasn’t been that long, but he’s used to it now.)

(He thinks he’ll miss it, if he had to live in silence again.)

It’s nice, to watch the buildings filter out, compressing, becoming shorter, spreading out along the countryside, trees and green things taking over. The transition between the city and the country has never been as abrupt as people describe it to be, and he thinks that it’s part of its charm.

But he can’t stay awake as long as he wants to; the fabric of the chair retains his warmth, the rumble of the train makes him drowsy – and he soon falls asleep.

\-----

Shirabu wakes almost immediately, opening his eyes to the slowing of the train, to the announcement that they are arriving at their destination. He blinks the remaining sleep away, feeling oddly refreshed, and pokes at the muted consciousness at the back of his mind.

_Semi-san. Wake up, we’re here._

He takes their bag and hoists it onto their shoulder, exiting the train even as he feels the expanding consciousness in their shared space. It’s like a slow blooming flower, reaching its petals towards the sun. Shirabu steps onto the platform, keeping out of others’ way, but he doesn’t take another step, drinking in the familiarity of the station.

**_We’re here?_ **

Semi sounds so groggy, and Shirabu hides a smile. _Yes._

**_Dang, I wanted to see the station as we came in._ **

_Sorry. I fell asleep too, so I missed it._

**_Nah, that’s alright._** He can feel Semi stretching beside him, before he sleepily takes control. Shirabu steps back without complaint. **_Shall we?_**

_Yeah, let’s go._

Neither of them say much as they traverse the station, feet following the familiar path towards the exit, trudging towards the bus interchange.

Their footsteps falter as Shirabu unwittingly takes control, steering them towards another stand. _Oh. Sorry._

**_It’s fine. I forgot we were going to yours first._ **

_That’s– That’s not what I meant._

**_Hmm? Oh._** He feels Semi shake himself out, but Shirabu’s still on edge despite the lack of hostility, despite the yawn that escapes. **_Give me a few minutes to wake up before we talk about that._**

_Right. Sorry._

**_Quit apologising._** Semi stifles another yawn. **_We were warned that this would happen, weren’t we? Right at the start._**

_Were we?_

(He doesn’t really remember, it was too long ago.)

**_Yeah? That because there are now two minds, souls – whatever you call it – sharing a body, and they have different wills, there might be a conflict once the second person learns sufficient control._ **

That makes a lot of sense.

_Honestly, I’m sick of conflict, and I’m sick of feeling like this._

**_What do you mean?_ **

Semi squints at the bus in the distance, trundling towards them. **_Hold that thought. Is that our bus?_**

_Yeah, it’s that one._

**_Right._ **

They get on the bus, and only when they’ve settled into a seat does Semi breach the topic again.

**_There doesn’t have to be conflict. We can learn to give and take._ **

_Can we, really?_

**_Is that sarcasm or a genuine question?_ **

_Genuine._ Shirabu sighs. _We both know how hard it was for us to get along when we had separate bodies, and now that we share one, plus our…disagreement… That doesn’t exactly reassure me that I wouldn’t take it too far again. And I did promise to not take control unless it was absolutely necessary._

**_Did you promise that?_ **

_Didn’t I?_

**_I don’t remember that._ **

_Maybe it was in my head then. But I_ don’t _want to break your trust by taking it too far again._

**_If you do take it too far, I’ll yell at you._ **

_Thank you,_ Shirabu says, _But that wouldn’t stop me at that point._

**_No, I guess it wouldn’t. But…you know, I trust you._ **

_You can’t really._

**_I trust you enough. Or well,_** Semi pauses. **_I respect you as a person, and I know you wouldn’t._**

_But what if I don’t trust me?_

**_Why don’t you?_ **

_I…_ Shirabu pauses, the silence stretching. He doesn’t like admitting it, but…

But of all the people in the world, it’s Semi who needs to know.

_In case you haven’t noticed already, I…kind of have an issue with control._

**_I noticed._** Semi’s tone is neutral, and it makes him even more nervous. **_You don’t like not being in control._**

_Yeah. Pretty much._

_I think it’s a…habit, perhaps, formed while I was growing up. I had no control because my parents always did all the controlling for me. So when I finally got out and could make autonomous decisions, I took to it a little too well._

**_Is that why you’re afraid to do it now? Our disagreement made you realise that you’re trying to keep in control too much?_ **

Shirabu is taken aback. _Yes. Something like that._

**_I’m not going to mince my words for issues like this. I’d rather that we didn’t get into another argument because of a miscommunication._ **

_I feel the same way._

**_So what is it that you’re worried about? You don’t trust yourself not to forcefully take control again?_ **

_Yeah._ His voice is small. Quiet. _For some reason, I_ am _able to overpower you at times. That worked fine in a desperate situation, but at other times…_

_I don’t want to be able to do that. Not least because you’re right – this is_ not _my body, no matter how much we share – but also because…_

_I_ do _respect you. And I don’t want to be overtly rude by lording anything over you._

Semi is quiet for a long, long time.

Finally, he stirs, saying, **_Thank you, for saying that._**

Before Shirabu can ask what he means, he continues, **_But you know what? I meant what I said before. I trust you. You know the difference between right and wrong a lot better than most people, and I know you wouldn’t push me into doing something I wouldn’t want to do if you had a clear head._**

**_So don’t hold back. If I’m not in control and you want to do something, go ahead. If I’m already doing something – and this goes without saying – don’t interrupt me unless you think it’s endangering my life, or it_ ** **is _absolutely necessary. If it’s something small, like redirecting us just now– Well, I thought that was necessary, so it doesn’t matter._**

**_Does that sound fair to you?_ **

_Very._ Shirabu feels like he can breathe again. _Glad we finally set the ground rules for control._

**_Didn’t we do it before?_ **

_Not that I remember of, no._

**_Hmm. Well, it’s done now. Don’t worry about it._ **

_If you say so._

A pause, and then, _Semi-san?_

**_Yes?_ **

_Do you… Would you mind, if I dropped the honorific?_

Semi raises his eyebrows. Shirabu feels the action, and wonders if anyone else saw it – if they wonder, what this young man is thinking.

**_No, I don’t mind. That’s not really something you ask someone, is it?_ **

_It felt right to._

**_Whatever suits you._ **

Shirabu smiles to himself.

(Maybe– Maybe Semi felt it. Because he feels a gentle brush of warm emotion across their shared mental space, like the friendly knocking of shoulders together.)


End file.
